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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 

















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PREFACE. 


Some thirty years ago, I contracted what grew to be 
an unfortunate fondness for a Knapsack. It furnished 
me solace on many weary tramps, until, without my 
volition, I laid it aside. The road of life stretched 
away before me. I had heart and hope, I was willing to 
work. The transition from knapsack to gripsack was 
natural, and in the transfer there were thoughts made 
sweet sometimes by reason of their very bitterness. 

For twenty-three long years I have tugged my grip 
over long routes of travel, to almost every busy mart 
in the Union, carrying glad tidings of trade as I 
journeyed. 

In these years, much that makes life miserable, and 
a great deal that gladdens it, transpired within my 
observation. I have seen the ranks of Commercial 
Travelers swell to hundreds of thousands. I have seen 
from small beginnings swift fortunes made ; and I have 
seen millions made miserable by sudden failures of 
fortune. 

It is to acquaint the reader with some of the actual 
ups and downs of that hardy representative of Ameri¬ 
can “ push,” the drummer, that this compilation has 
been made. No literary claim is urged. The tales are 
told, as I heard them, and in every case, when possible, 
due credit has been given the authors. It has cost time 

W 



VI 


Preface. 


and money, both of which have been gladly given, in 
order to group, in a more lasting shape, the ideas of 
others ; showing what a drummer is, how he lives and 
works, and makes his way in spite of obstacles, that, to a 
man less brave and hopeful, would appear insurmount¬ 
able. The effort has been made to instruct as well as 
please, and acquaint the reader with some of the shrewd, 
sharp sayings made by the drummers, as well as about 
them. 

Should my friends of the fraternity see fit to forward 
me accounts of personal incidents of travel, adventures 
on the road, observations of character, and matters of 
such import, I will undertake to embody them in a 
future volume. 

Geo. L. Marshall. 

Richmond\ Va. f JVov. } ist , 1891. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

Frontispiece, Geo. L. Marshall. 

The Drummer’s Latest Yarn, ( with illustration ).12-13 

The Drummer. 15 

Concerning Commercial Men. 18 

Selling as an Art. 20 

The Seal of the Brotherhood. 24 

Requisite of a Drummer. 25 

About the Boys. 28 

Defying the Railroad. 33 

The Head Waiter. 34 

How He Fooled ’Em. 35 

Viewed in Different Lights. 35 

A Drummer relates his Experience. 36 

Only a Drummer. 42 

The Last Trip. 44 

A La Mode Muskegon. 46 

“Ther'llbe no Kickers there”. 46 

The Drummers’Dream. 47 

Drummer’s Jokes ”. 48 

“Will the ‘Drummer’ be Crowded Out?”. 50 

Commercially Classified. 53 

Strange, if true. 55 

A Solid (S) Mash. 57 

Drummers’ Poetry. 59 

He was a Drummer.. 59 

Satire on the Commercial Traveler. 61 

[vii] 





























Vlll 


Contents . 


Page 

A Drummer’s Remedy. 62 

Men on the Road. 63 

That Bell Boy. 64 

The Gentleman and the Snob. 68 

C. T’s as pictured by a young Lady. 69 

A “ Funny" Man Flailed. 71 

The Story of a Country Inn. 72 

The Drummer to his Grip. 76 

The Commercial Traveler. 78 

The General Agent. 80 

The Drummer’s Grip. 81 

Down on the Drummer. 82 

A Good One for a Drummer. 85 

The House Pays for it. 86 

An Old Timer's First Trip. 89 

Christ, Church & Co. 93 

The Commercial Traveler. 95 

A Noted Drummer. 97 

Prospects Portrayed. 97 

Teaching a Smart Drummer. 99 

Reform Badly Needed.100 

A Comedy in a Sleeping Car.101 

He was Insured .102 

Mistaken Identity.103 

It was Tea.105 

A Traveler’s By-Word.106 

The sort of a House he Represented.107 

Drummer and Archbishop.107 

On the Road Twenty-five Years Ago.109 

Good-Bye, Old Grip.no 

Travelers’ Stories.112 

Those Bold, Bad Drummers.113 

Doctrine of Discomfort.115 

They believe in Advertising.117 

Courteous reception of Commercial Travelers.118 

The Maiden Sweetly Smiled......119 

Difference in Salesmen.120 








































Contents . 


IX 


Page 

Salesmen and the Railroads.121 

They are Built Right.123 

His Partner.124 

Commercial Travelers and Young Men’s Christian 

Associations. 126 

Dr. Talmage talks to the Travelers.128 

The Smartest of them all.133 

The Traveling Man’s Home.134 

Long-lived Commercial Travelers.135 

No Wonder. 135 

The Bard.136 

Tips.137 

The Drummer’s Life.138 

The Sample Kings.139 

The Drummer’s Gallery. x\7. 

The Boys on the Road.144 

They Forge a Link.145 

Sent him a Letter.145 

A Poem. 146 

The Battered Old Grips Lament.147 

The true Commercial Traveler. 149 

Drummers, true Missionaries.149 

The Drummer’s best girl.150 

Fennemore’s Fun.152 

A Traveling Man talks.154 

He Cancelled the Order.156 

The Drummer.158 

Drummer-Graphs on Drummer Preachers.160 

Who Pays the Bill.163 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox’s Tribute.164 

A Plea for the Drummer.166 

Proctor Knott’s Splendid Speech.167 

The Drummer as he is.174 

“ Who turn Dat Hog Loose ”.176 

He had Cheek.1 77 

The Ceaseless Clatter.178 

What they Spend.179 






































X 


Contents. 


Page 

Short Stories.179 

Masterpieces of the World’s Arch Distorter of the Truth. ..182 

A True Story about a Slow Train.187 

The Legend of the Drummah.188 

He Paid as usual.191 

The Rival Drummers.192 

Send us a Letter.193 

A Bad Man to Fool with.194 

Very Cleverly Done.195 

A Drummer’s Bill of Fare.196 

Notis to Gests.197 

The Game did not Pan out Right.198 

On the Road.199 

An Old Timer.200 

The Influence of the Travelers.201 

The Drummer’s Toast.205 

The Woman Drummer....207 

Angels of Commerce.208 

The Drummer’s Scalps.209 

Sand is what They have..- .211 

Col. Stirling B. Toney’s Speech.211 

Worrying a Bridal Party.215 

He Called her Darling.219 

Called Home.220 

Knights of the Road.225 

He didn’t Own it.227 

Held up by Drummers.227 

A Startling Experience.232 

My Drummer.234 

He had a Ready Tongue.235 

He Met his Match.236 

Establishing a Character. 237 

Use the Boys Well.238 

He tells it Himself.239 

What Constitutes a good Salesman.239 

The Drummer’s Baby. 242 

The Sad Experience of a Drummer.244 







































Contents. xi 

Page 

He was full of Wrath.246 

Joke Against Joke.,247 

You will know him.247 

Bashful as a Maiden.251 

Told this time in Rhyme.252 

A Drummer’s Cheek.>.254 

The Dead Drummer.254 

Waiting.254 

A Drummer Constantly.255 

A Drummer’s Dispatch.257 

Mayor Londoner’s Address.258 

Pleasing a Grumbler.261 

The Best was Bad.262 

Hd wore a Mother Hubbard.263 

The Drummer’s Trick.264 

Traveling Men interested in this. 266 

Speech of Hon. P. W. Meldrim.267 

“ Soup”.269 

The Traveling Man’s Wife.270 

Der Drummer.274 

A “ Pointer ” for the Drummer.275 

That Rattling Pretty Girl.276 

He had Tried it.277 

Elements of Hash.278 

A Traveling Salesman’s Plan.278 

A Truthful “ Cracker ”.279 

Tex-Ar-Kania Sandwich.279 

Poetic Prose for Patient People.282 

He Got Thar.284 

The Safest Part.284 

The House to Blame.285 

Strictly Business.287 

Some Suggestions for Salesmen... .288 

The Female Tourist.288 

Col. Thomas’ Baltimore Speech.290 

A Poem.291 

He Netted his Victim.298 







































Contents . 


xii 

Page 

The Drummer's Mistake. 2 99 

Will They ?.300 

Drummer’s Stories. 3 °° 

He found a Night-Gown. 3°5 

The Car Porter.3°6 

He Kicked Thrice. 3°7 

The Hotel Clerk.3°8 

Bradley’s Break. 3 IQ 

The Parting at the Gate.311 

Salesmen’s Written Contracts.314 

Lost the Cigars.315 

Gave Himself away.315 

A Bad Effort to Bluff.316 

No Uppers for him. 317 

He was Radically Cured...318 

He wasn't Called.319 

When Merchants save Money. 320 

Lamentations of a Traveling Man.321 

The Men who move. 323 

The Faithful Traveler finishes his Round Trip and Reaches 

Home.324 

The Drummer, hard to beat.326 

A Drummer’s Wish.327 

A Christmas Toast.328 

The Ruling Passion.329 

An Innocent Drummer. 330 

Had been to Pensacola.333 

A Little Sermon to Drummers.336 

Never go Back on a Traveling Man.337 

The Battered Old Grip.338 

Some stray readable bits picked up by the way.341 

Making the best of Difficulties.343 

The Drummer’s Babe.344 

The Last of All.345 


































































THE DRUMMER’S LATEST YARN. 


A happy-go-lucky individual is the commercial traveler. He 
carries the burden of his house upon his shoulders. Skirmishes 
the country for traffic, and keeps the wolf from the governor’s 
door. He has a keen scent for trade and a sweet tooth for a good 
story. 

He is known as a missionary, sent out to convert the untutored 
trader ; the drummer to rattle up trade, and make a noise for the 
house. He is of romantic turn, is fond of cheerful company, 
loves a congenial spirit, and regards a sprightly maiden’s chatter 
as better than lost time. 

His talent for telling stories is marvelous and deep. Crisp, 
bright and pointed ones are found in his stock if in the market. 

Recently, a very gifted member of the .fraternity told a particu¬ 
larly good story to a very appreciative man, coming up the Lake 
Shore road. His laughter, very hearty at first, became hysterical 
and could not be stopped. He struggled, strangled and died in 
the car. 

While sudden takings-off are melancholy, it was a comfort to 
the immediate friends that he died happy. 

The drummer has not dared to tell that story since, 

The above sketch was taken on the spot by the artist A. M. 
Willard, of Cleveland, Ohio; and was copyrighted and published 
by “The Jno.F. Ryder Co., of Cleveland, Ohio,” where large 
copies can be secured. 


[*3l 





















O’ER RAIL AND CROSS-TIES 
WITH GRIPSACK. 


CHAPTER I. 

“ THE DRUMMER.” 

DEDICATED TO THE GRIPSACK FRATERNITY. 

You’ll think that my “topic’s” a trite one, 

That nothing of note can be said 

On a subject that’s worn to a frazzle, 

Till the warp and the woof are but thread ; 

You’ll think that my muse will disdain it, 

And turn from a theme that is old ; 

But with all that’s been said of the “Drummer,” 
“The half” has yet “ never been told.” 

And I ween she will never grow weary 
While encomiums fall from her lips ; 

She’ll sing of the “Drummer” forever, 

Of the traveling man with his “grips 

[15] 



16 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

She’ll touch, with her delicate fingers, 

The silvery chords of the lyre 
In behalf of this much abused hero, 

This proverbial “ pest” of the buyer ; 

She’ll sing of his trials and crosses, 

Of the heartaches that mingle with gain, 

As by night, and by day, he is jolting, 

Or speeding his way on the train ; 

She’ll defend him from all the aspersion 
That rests on his honorable name, 

As with trunks filled with samples he “hustles” 
To canvass the town for his “game.” 

For be sure he has earned all lie’s captured 
By a desperate “ tug ” and a “ nip,” 

This hero, entitled the “drummer,” 

With his cheek and inseparable “ grip.” 

Did his house only know of his hardships 
As he tramps through the mud and the rain, 
As he rises e’er day in the morning, 

To catch the unmerciful train ; 

As he hastily swallows his breakfast 
And utters anathemas brief, 

On the poor imitation of coffee 
And wonderful toughness of beef. 

As he steps to the counter to settle, 

And finds they have doubled his bill 
Because he is drawing “ big wages,” 

And they think they can fleece him at will. 


With Gripsack . if 

Methinks as they sit in their office 
Reclining in comfort and ease, 

That the estimate placed on the drummer 
Would rise, full a score of degrees. 

“ These Knights of the Road ” as they dub them, 
Are jolly good fellows to meet; 

With jokes full of wit and good humor 
That none but a drummer can beat. 

As he steps in a store to get “ orders,’* 

He nervously glances about, 

He invoices the stock in a moment, 

And sees the “ assortment ” is out. 

The merchant may think he has fooled him, 

But he knows his material at sight, 

At a glance he can read human nature, 

And, “you bet,” he will “ size him up right.” 

The girls seem to dote on the “ Drummer,” 

Because he has “ git up and git ; ” 

They enjoy a little “ flirtation ; ” 

They relish his humor and wit; 

And e’en the most prudish among them 
Will venture some sweet things to say, 

Because he’s a gay “ bird of passage ; ” 

To-morrow he’s flitting away. 

O the “Drummer,” the good natured “Drummer,” 
These world-renowned “ Knights of the Grip,” 

Success to each noble endeavor, 

And “ big orders' ’ with every trip ! 

Elizabeth O. Dannelly. 


i8 


O er Rail and Cross-Ties 


CONCERNING COMMERCIAL MEN. 

The following sentiments have been collated from the 
expressions published at various times, of men who have 
thoughtfully made use of the experience and observation 
afforded them, from a practical point of view. Mr. H. H. 
Mayer says : 

Commercial travelers are fairly representative of the 
average business man, because they are business men, or, 
if not, they are failures. They are a class peculiar to 
themselves, still they are the class from which our busi¬ 
ness men select partners. Theirs is exactly the experi¬ 
ence needed to fit a man to be a good merchant, if the 
right stuff is in him. The essentials of success cannot 
be delegated to a shallow, loud-mouthed man, as the 
newspaper “funny” man so loves to picture the drum¬ 
mer. They require capacity, and the field is the best in 
the whole realm of business in which to educate a man 
and increase his usefulness. A man of experience can 
quickly gauge the men at the head of a house by the 
men sent out on the road by them. The wishy-washy 
merchant figures that two $600 men are a better invest¬ 
ment than one $ 1,200 man, but this class is the one for¬ 
ever mourning over the way traveling men slaughter 
goods and ruin trade. 

I know of no school, no business college, no position 
which offers the same opportunity for education and 
advancement as does that of the traveling salesman. 
The bright minds of the world are not, by any means, to 
be found solely in the city. In the country store are men 
who read and think, something most of us have little 
time for in the city. To the man on the road questions 


With Gripsack . 


*9 

arise that never meet the house salesman ; questions as 
to methods of doing business, as to means to ends, as to 
the policy to pursue in a business course. He is daily 
and hourly listening to men’s experience with men, and 
he is learning details that cover every phase of commer¬ 
cial life. If his head is not full of wood or putty he is 
laying up store of experience that shall be of immense 
value to him. 

There is no position that honestly demands so much 
of a man’s time and thoughts. His employers have a 
right to demand that his thoughts, his whole life, while 
on the road, shall be given to the furtherance of their 
business. Men build up trade for their houses often by 
being sociable and friendly, and the men who succeed as 
salesmen, and who in turn become successful merchants, 
are those who never found a day too long for their work 
on the road. 


Mayor Denny, of Indianapolis, Indiana, in an address, 
said : 

Business integrity is one of the cardinal principles of 
the modern commercial world. Without honesty in 
business affairs, what would society be to-day ? With¬ 
out the business confidence which exists among manu¬ 
facturers and merchants, what would our civilization be 
worth ? Indeed, without this business integrity and con¬ 
fidence, would we have the advanced civilization of to¬ 
day at all ? I think not. Commerce is of itself a great 
civilizer ; and a nation becomes powerful in proportion 
to the extent of its trade and commercial activity. 

The world owes much to the modern commercial 
travelers, and many a merchant prince owes his all to 
the industry and integrity of his traveling salesmen 0 
The world has grown too enterprising for the drone, 



20 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


and too smart for the trickster ; at least the commercial 
world has. There is but one step between trickery and 
dishonesty in commercial dealings, and the time has 
passed for dishonesty to succeed in business affairs. It 
may seem to succeed for a season, but the period of such 
success is usually very short. The way of the trans¬ 
gressor is hard, no matter what law of God or rule of 
human society is violated. 

But you gentlemen from abroad deserve and have a 
special welcome from our people. Indianapolis has 
grown used to seeing strangers and entertaining public 
assemblages, but I am glad to say has never grown tired 
of them. She will never tire of the presence of the com¬ 
mercial travelers of Indiana. You were welcome when 
you came, you are welcome now, and you will always be 
welcome whenever you come. 


SELLING AS AN ART. 

The commercial traveler, or, as he is better and more 
familiarly known, the drummer, has always been a 
favorite subject with rhymesters and paragraphers for 
the press. Writers for the stage have also pictured his 
follies and minute transgressions in the lowest kind 
of comedy dramas. His characteristics have been dis¬ 
torted, and his follies exaggerated to such an extent that 
the idea has come to prevail that the life of the drummer 
is one long summer holiday, the brightness of which is 
only dimmed once in a while when he has to see the 
head of the house and square accounts. The com¬ 
mercial traveler is popularly supposed to have very little 
to do, except ride around the country in luxurious 
drawing-room cars, stopping at the best hotels, where 



With Gripsack . 


2t 


everything is arranged for his comfort, and to draw a 
princely salary, which is spent in late-hour conviviality 
with other choice spirits. Perhaps the only portion of 
this picture which is not illusionary is the hotel com¬ 
forts, but it is the liberality of the drummer, and not 
the importance of his calling, which obtain him these. 

In the olden times the drummer enjoyed a greater 
prestige than he does to-day. News traveled more 
slowly, and the arrival of the commercial man was a 
source of unfeigned delight in isolated communities. 
As related by the drummer, the news, though old, lost 
none of its piquancy, but, like wine, improved with age 
and every recital. At the comfortable English inns, 
rooms were set apart for the commercials. It was con¬ 
sidered a privilege to be allowed access to these pre¬ 
cincts, sacred to the knights of the road. There the 
fire seemed to burn brighter in the wide-open grate, the 
chairs felt more comfortable, and the occupants were 
always happy and contented. But this has passed away. 
The telegraph has supplanted the traveler as a bearer of 
news ; the inns have given place to the mammoth 
hotels, in which the commercial traveling element is 
effectually absorbed, and it is only in out-of-the way 
places that the drummer is curiously regarded, and 
suspected of being a different species from the rest of 
humanity. 

Mr. Thomas A. Young, ex president of the National 
Commercial Travelers' Association, vice-president of 
the New York State Association, and chairman of the 
Metropolitan Division, gives a picture of the American 
Drummer as he is to-day. He said : 

“ The business of which the commercial traveler of 
to-day is the representative, is of such ancient origin 
that it is buried in the dust of remote ages. It is 


22 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


generally believed, however, that the practice of sending 
out traveling salesmen originated in England, and that 
it was in vogue there three or four hundred years ago. 
That is the best information we have had on the sub¬ 
ject. I suppose the first commercial traveler would be 
considered a pack peddler to-day. He simply carried a 
pack consisting of a very small line of goods that had 
not been disposed of to buyers coming to the market. 
With these he visited small out-of-the way places and 
sold them as best lie could. Following this, a traveler 
was started out with a limited amount of samples, and 
he kept on the road until these were disposed of. 
Hje carried the goods he had for sale with him, and it 
can readily be imagined that his lot was not a very easy 
one. The practice kept growing, and with changing 
conditions the methods of conducting the business also 
changed. At last large houses employing store clerks 
would select one or two of them out of the number and 
send them out on the road to travel. Of a necessity 
their territory becarfie very much extended, and, owing 
to the limited facilities for travel, it was very hard 
work. 

The traveler of the present day is selected by the 
house, and is the best man that can be found. He is 
and must be intelligent, and quick-witted, and adapted 
to the pushing of trade. Commercial travelers are 
generally a very respectable and highly intelligent class. 
They have to be so, or they could not command respect 
with the buyers. The freedom given to commercial 
travelers is not any more demoralizing than that of any 
pursuit in which men have freedom of action. Some, of 
course fall into dissolute habits, but, as a class, the per¬ 
centage of these is not as great as it is in the general 
trade, because they are dependent solely upon their own 


With Gripsack . 


23 


exertions for their success. They carry large lines of 
samples representing the stocks held by the firms for 
which they travel. Most people are familiar with the 
sight of these huge trunks, or sample cases in which the 
lines of goods are carried. Often a commercial traveler 
has to carry around with him as many as twenty of these 
trunks, weighing from 4,000 to 5,000 pounds. Travelers 
for general stores, dry goods and notions have to carry 
the largest variety of samples. At present the territory 
which a traveler is expected to cover is more limited 
than formerly. Now, large houses employ two and some¬ 
times more drummers for a State like New York alone. 

“ As a general thing the commercial traveler is in love 
with his business, and the roving life has such a fascina¬ 
tion that nothing else can replace it. They are more 
contented upon the road than at home, and are usually 
unable to settle down to a quiet business life after having 
been a commercial traveler for any length of time. Even 
when they grow old and gray they are loath to give up 
the business on account of advanced age, but, on the 
contrary, I have heard many an old traveler express a 
decided wish to remain in the trade. 

The lady drummer is a purely American institution, 
and is destined to become a great and increasing branch 
of industry. Lady drummers are as a general thing 
employed by houses who deal in millinery, laces, jewelry, 
fancy goods, and articles of art and vertu that are in 
demand by the woman trade. They seem to catch upon 
the business with as much vim and knack as the ordinary 
commercial traveler, and are generally meeting with fair 
success. They have nothing in common with their male 
brethren in the profession. They usually travel short 
distances from home, although in some cases their travels 
are very extended. Their salaries compare favorably 


24 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


with the ordinary traveler, some being not more than 
$600 a year, while others make $1,500, and perhaps more. 
There are probably more than one hundred lady drum¬ 
mers employed in New York city alone. Their ages are 
from 25 up to 45. They usually obtain their positions 
on the road by having attracted attention as saleswomen 
in the stores. 


THE SEAL OF THE BROTHERHOOD. 

The merchant-traveler has a hand 
Whose touch is felt in every land. 

A heart, whose loyalty is stirred 
By every noble deed and word. 

An ear, so tuned to sorrow’s tone, 

Beneath the smile he hears the moan. 

His keen eye, like a magnet, draws 
Trade’s diamond from the earth’s black jaws. 

A polished mirror in his mind, 

Before which passes all mankind. 

Tracing new paths upon the earth, 

His close companions, wealth and worth. 

His tongue is governed with such tact, 

That e’en a blind fool sees a fact. 

His faults so thick in folly’s youth, 

Like smoke conceal the fires of truth. 

The breath of time dispels the night, 

And truth’s immortal fires glow bright, 

While honor’s circlet holds all good, 

Faith’s signet seals our brotherhood. 

Alice S. Mitchell. 



With Gripsack. 


25 


REQUISITES OF A DRUMMER. 

The Cincinnati Inquirer gives the following summar¬ 
ization : 

He should be thoroughly posted on all points that 
may arise, and be in position to answer any question 
that may come up in connection with his business. 

He must diligently read the newspaper and be con¬ 
versant with all the important questions of the day. 1 

He should avoid all arguments with customers, as 
they seldom convince, but oftener tend to irritate. 

He is expected to smooth out all difficulties or misun¬ 
derstandings which may exist between his employer and 
customer, without compromising either. 

He is required to be conversant with the standing of 
every house in the trade over the territory which he 
covers, in order to avoid unpleasant complications with 
irresponsible parties. 

He should report to his firm every day if possible, and 
make notes of any information obtained that may be of 
interest to them or benefit to the business. 

He should be competent and willing to advise timid 
buyers and those who have no confidence in their own 
judgment, and always advise conscientiously. 

He ought never to take advantage of an incompetent 
or inexperienced buyer and overload him with goods, as 
it will certainly work against him and the firm in the 
long run. 

He should avoid all dissipated companionship, as such 
association may place him in an equivocal position. 

He should make it a point to be on good terms with his 
fellow-travelers, and obtain their good will if possible, 


26 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


Also, always speak well of his competitors, as he will 
thereby gain the respect of the customers. 

He should under no circumstances misrepresent his 
goods in order to effect a sale, as he will surely lose the 
confidence of his patrons, which is most difficult to 
restore. 

He ought riot to waste time on parties whose chronic 
habit it is to change, cancel, or countermand orders, and 
who continually report “ shortage ” and make false 
claims for “ imperfections.” 

He must not allow himself to become disheartened by 
a week of dull trade, as this may happen to the oldest 
and most popular traveler. 

He should never boast of the large business he may 
have had ; it doesn’t sound well and is bad policy. 

Nor should he show his orders to any one, as it is 
betraying the confidence of those who have favored 
him. 

He must not allow himself to be intimidated, nor 
become discouraged by the statements of unscrupulous 
buyers who always profess to be able to do much better 
from some one else, as usually there “ is some nigger in 
the fence.” 

He should be as economical with his firm’s money as 
circumstances will allow. 

If, in the natural order of things, it seems necessary to 
be more liberal than usual, he should put his money 
where it will do the most good. 

If he invites a friendly buyer or customer to dinner or 
theatre, he should be careful to do it in such a way as 
not to make him feel that he is being bought or placed 
under obligation ,—Commercial Inquirer , 


With Gripsack . 2 7 

The New England Grocer has the following good 
word : 

What an influence this tireless army of hard work¬ 
ing, energetic traveling men have upon commerce ; how 
quick it feels their action or inaction ! We do not 
mean that trade would not continue were they 
withdrawn from the field ; business was done before 
their advent in the commercial world, and would be 
again done were they withdrawn ; but is there any of 
us that wants to go back to the old semi-annual visits 
of the country merchants with the big purchase of 
stock to last until the next trip and six months’ credit 
to go with it ? No, the world has moved onward, and 
short credits, almost daily purchases and an army of 
salesmen carrying the markets to the doors of the mer¬ 
chants are the results, and, instead of being a necessary 
evil, as they are frequently called, they are a necessary 
blessing. They are, as a class, a keen, upright set of 
educators. We don’t believe that there is either an 
employer or customer that will not admit cheerfully 
that they can gather many an item of valuable infor¬ 
mation from their travelers. As a rule they are good 
judges of credit, and you will most always find in a 
failure that the houses that have the best traveling 
men lose the least money, and last, but not least, they 
are a set of royal good fellows. We know that the 
newspapers love to write them up as men with cheeks 
of brass and ears of tin and eyes of steel, and while trav¬ 
eling men are not all angels, yet there is no profession 
where it pays better to be a gentleman, both in dress and 
address, than theirs, and to-day the slovenly or impudent 
traveling man (if there are any such) would soon find 
himself without either house or customer. 


28 


O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


“ Notwithstanding the paragrapliists, the drummer is 
rarely a humorous character. He is apt to be a good 
fellow, liberal in his views, with a taste for good stories 
and a bottomless well of good nature in his heart. Con¬ 
tact with the flinty and uneven surface of life has pol¬ 
ished off his points and sandpapered his edges, and so 
he laughs because it is easier than to cry and never 
jokes more gayly than when he is in deadliest earnest. 
He is a hardworking philosopher, and the life of trade 
as well as the smoking car. Moreover, it is his business 
to know the world, and the drummer is apt to be a pro¬ 
found social philosopher. “ There are wicked drum¬ 
mers, just as there are hysterical clergymen and shifty 
politicians, but they are a very small majority. No 
doubt the editor-postmaster had the wicked one in mind 
when he penned his diatribe. His hasty generalizations 
from insufficient data is likely to teach him a valuable 
lesson in polemics.” 


ABOUT THE BOYS. 

This, from the Portland Express , is gentle and appro¬ 
priate : 

The time has gone by when a “drummer” was a 
term more or less of a reproach. Only upright, intelli¬ 
gent and capable men are to-day found on the road. 
Upon their efforts and their success depends the success 
of the firm which employs them. They are mostly young 
men, and they visit every village and hamlet in the State 
of Maine. They are familiar, not only with every whole¬ 
sale, but with every little trader in the State. They 
kno\y exactly what goods are needed in this section and 



With Gripsack . 


29 


what in that. They are walking mercantile agencies as 
regards each man’s credit. In fact, they are the back¬ 
bone and sinews of the commercial world to-day. 


The Albany, New York, Journal, speaking of the com¬ 
mercial traveler, thus describes him : 

There was a time when the “ drummer ” was popularly 
considered as a target for weak witticisms,but his calling 
has become magnified with its rapid advancement in 
importance. To-day the commercial traveler is the 
herald of prosperity. He is doing most of the work of 
opening new worlds for business. He is keen, energetic, 
persevering. He is the avant courier of civilization. 
The drummer of to-day is the millionaire and merchant 
prince of to-morrow. May his gripsack never grow 
smaller, or his diamonds diminish in size. 


The National Traveler gives some of the anxieties and 
trials : 

The anxieties and trials of the commercial trav¬ 
eler are as great as those which come to his employer or 
customer. They, after the busy hours are over, can find 
relief and relaxation in the comfort of a home in the 
pleasant companionship of wife, children, or friend ; but 
the tired C. T., after hours of ceaseless activity, often 
finds himself among comparative strangers in a cheerless 
hotel office. Is it to be wondered at if he endeavor to 
pass such dreary hours away in the pursuit of something 
at least sufficiently enticing to occupy his time until the 
daily tramp begins again? 

To the outside world who only see the exterior of a 
traveler’s life, it seems one full of ease and pleasure. He 




30 O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 

is usually such a jolly, good-natured fellow that you 
naturally infer that his whole life is one round of gaiety. 
He has schooled himself to this because he must be 
pleasant and affable if he would succeed in business. 
His inner life is known only to himself and those most 
intimately associated with him. 


The San Francisco Grocer makes the following 
demand for courteous treatment of drummers : 

The policy of courtesy and kindness in business pays 
the best returns of any which the merchant, either in a 
large or small way of business, can follow. The profits 
in dollars and cents from such a course may not be so 
easily reckoned as those which are realized from buying 
and selling merchandise, but in the long run, under 
equal conditions, the man who treats everybody with 
consideration will accumulate more money, to say 
nothing of the personal satisfaction which comes from 
such a course, than he whose civility is confined to those 
only from whom he expects to reap an immediate profit 
or to secnre some personal favor. These reflections are 
suggested by the surly manner some merchants—and 
it is to be hoped they are few—treat commerc’ 1 
travelers who call upon them in order to present samples 
or to secure their trade. Traders who are so indiscreet 
in this regard should remember that they also are de¬ 
pendent on the favors of their customers for a livelihood, 
and that the man who honestly and conscientiously 
follows the vocation of salesman in any respectable line 
of trade is entitled to as much respect when entering 
their stores as is the dealer himself when he calls the 
attention of a buyer to goods in his own place of busi¬ 
ness. 



3 1 


With Gripsack. 

A little reflection will show the advantages of such a 
Course. The traveling salesman, either city or country, 
in addition to the special information he possesses, if he 
understands his business, has at command points which 
are always of value to his customers. Little hints of 
this kind may be made almost invaluable if rightly 
used, and it is a shortsighted trader who will give the 
cold shoulder to men who make it an object in their 
travels to secure the very information which their cus¬ 
tomers most need. A writer in the Retail Grocers* Advo¬ 
cate puts this very neatl^. He says : 

“ I don’t understand why some grocers treat the sales¬ 
men who call upon them with so much disrespect. 
Salesmen realize that it is foolish to expect an order 
from every grocer whom they call upon. They call 
sometimes from a force of habit, at other times merely 
to show the grocer that hard words and cold looks can¬ 
not drive them away. The salesmen in our city are 
walking price-lists. If you desire information in regard 
to the state of the market, there is none more capable or 
willing to give the information. Treat them kindly and 
you will not regret it. They will have a kind word for 
you, and may, perhaps, defend your character when 
assailed by others whom they meet on their daily 
travels. Treat them as if they were beggars or tramps 
and you may regret it. It will not be a great while 
before every grocer they meet knows it, and in their 
quiet talks with grocers .you will be branded as mean 
and unprincipled, and perhaps sometimes worse may be 
said. Keep on the right side of the salesmen who call 
upon you. If you cannot patronize them all, show them 
at least that you are a gentleman. ” 

It is not fair to expect that the traveling salesman 
should be treated like “ a long lost brother ” every- 


32 O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 

where upon his rounds, neither is it necessary for th6 
merchant upon whom he calls to neglect his own busi¬ 
ness to look at goods which he has no use for. There 
is a happy medium in all things, and while it may some¬ 
times be necessary to check the eloquence of the over- 
zealous drummer, it can be done in a polite and 
dignified way, which will give no offense. Mutual 
respect is thus maintained and neither party has reason 
for complaint. 


The Toronto Merchant speaks of the dangers and 
toils of the “ Boys ” as follows : 

Commercial travelers take big chances every day 
while skimming along at a rate of thirty or forty miles 
an hour over a two inch flange of rotten iron, to seek 
rest, when their day’s work is done, on the fourth floor 
of some old veritable fire-trap. This is but one among 
the dangers that menace them. The one calamity 
from which they cannot escape is incurable dyspepsia. 
Sudden death on the rail or the tortures of being fatally 
burned are a far happier release from a life of toil than 
that of the slow, lingering agony of chronic dyspepsia. 
No man on the road could carry out the heroic resolu¬ 
tion of dieting himself ; few would feel disposed to pay 
seventy-five cents for dinner and confine themselves 
solely to a glass of buttermilk and a Graham cracker, 
and yet in a majority of instances it would be by far the 
wisest course to pursue. 


The Baltimore American gives the following facts and 
figures: 

It was stated several years ago that the commercial 
traveler in this country was becoming too numerous, 




With Gripsack . 


33 


And, as trade could not stand the burden of his cost, he 
would have to go. The prediction, although much dis¬ 
cussed, has not proved correct. In 1880 there were 
about 200,000 commercial travelers in the United 
States. To-day the number is estimated at 400,000— 
an enormous army of intelligent, enterprising, quick¬ 
witted men, traveling in all parts of the country, sup¬ 
porting railroads and hotels, carrying new ideas and 
new styles, strengthening the commercial relations and 
doing much to aid and advance the general progress. 


DEFYING THE RAILROAD. 

“ Will you be kind enough to take that gripsack off 
that seat ?” said a countryman who got on a train at 
Luling, Texas. 

“ No sir, I don’t propose to do anything of the sort,” 
replied the drummer, who was sitting on the other side 
of the seat. 

“ Do you say that you are going to let that gripsack 
stay right there ?” 

Yes sir, I do.” 

“In case you don’t remove that gripsack, I shall be 
under the painful necessity of calling the conductor.” 

“ You can call in the conductor, the engineer and the 
brakeman, if you want to. Perhaps you had better stop 
at the next station and send a special to old Jay Gould 
himself about it.” 

“The conductor will put you off the train.” 

“I don’t care if he does. I am not going to take that 
gripsack from that place where it is.” 

The indignant passenger went through the train and 
soon returned with the conductor. 



34 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


“So you refuse to remove that gripsack, do your' 
asked the conductor. 

“I do.” 

Great sensation. 

“ Why do you persist in refusing to remove that grip¬ 
sack ?” 

“ Because it’s not mine.” 

“Why didn’t you say so at once?” 

“Because nobody asked me.”— Texas Siftings. 


THE HEAD WAITER. 

His eagle eye first catches yours 
While going in to dine, 

You watch him while he deftly pours 
The bottled beer or wine ; 

He walks the floor with lordly air, 
While you in humble way, 

Will follow him, content to stare 
With not a word to say. 

The waiters bow and hold their breath 
While he is passing by, 

He scares them nearly half to death, 
They hardly dare to sigh ; 

But if you’d see this lordly air 
And all the rest unbend, 

Just place a silver quarter there 
Upon his finger’s end. 


Jno. DeWitt. 



With Gripsack . 


35 


HOW HE FOOLED ’EM. 

Friend —Don’t you have a great many drummers com¬ 
ing in here and boring you with their samples and talk ?” 

Drunmier —A good many drummers come in here, but 
they don’t bore me.” 

“ Don’t they ask you to look at their samples ?” 

“No.” 

“Don’t they ask you to give them orders?” 

“No, they go right out, without saying a word.” 

“How do you manage to get rid of them ?” 

“It is the simplest thing in the world ; I put a plug 
hat and an open gripsack on the counter every morning. 
When a drummer sees these signs of another drummer 
on the premises, he goes right off. Every ten minutes 
in the day a drummer comes to the door, looks at the 
gripsack and goes away, and I am left in peace.— Texas 
Siftings. 


VIEWED IN DIFFERENT LIGHTS. 

He enters your store with a smile that is bland, 

His dress makes him look like a lord of the land 
Looks over your stock while he opens his “grip” 

And gives you on sugar and coffee the “ tip ” 

Does the Drummer. 

He spreads out his samples and takes out his list, 
Commencing with A, not a letter is missed, 

While the volume of language that flows from his tongue 
Makes you wish he had died whilst yet he was young 

Awful Drummer. 



3$ 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


He talks on tobacco—he talks on cigars ; 

Then tells you a story he heard (?) on the cars. 

Pie sets you a laughing, then writes down your name 
And you’re captured again with his neat little game. 

Wily Drummer. 

He can give you a po n er on syrups and teas, 

Or sell you molasses that’s certain to please 
His prices are bottom, his goods are A i—; 

His house is the squarest that’s under the sun, 

Boastful Drummer. 

You order and order while under his spell, 

And when he has gone you consign him to—well 
A place that Bob Ingersoll says that there ain’t, 

When you foot up your order it makes you feel faint. 

Oh ! the Drummer. 

With all of his faults and his failings combined 
With all the shortcomings that in him you’ll find 
He’s a jolly good fellow, you’ll have to confess 
And one that refusal can never repress 

Is the Drummer. 

Dedicated to him who is the first to call in the morn¬ 
ing, and the last to leave at night—the Drummer. 

By Hawley. 


A DRUMMER RELATES HIS EXPERIENCE IN 
BUCYRUS, O. 

One thing I like about these “ Knights of the Road ” 
is that they are great fellows for secret societies. Most 
all the drummers belong to everything that is going. 



With Gripsack . 


37 


from the “Grand Knights of the Diamond Garter” 
down to the “Sons of Intemperance.” I am quite a 
hand for all such mysterious things myself, so I get solid 
with all the boys. My old friend Manhattan called on 
me to see if I needed any hardware and to have a visit. 
We had a jolly time. While we were sittin’ in the office 
a chap came in and wanted to borrow $2 on account of 
a remittance not coming to him as hp expected. I told 
him my $2 I kept to lend was in now, being sent in the 
day before by Crooks, but I never lent it except to 
drummers. He said, “ that's me.” I gave him the 
grand hailing sign of an Odd Fellow, which he tumbled 
to. Then I come the great “ hair in the soot” grip of a 
Pythonic. He tumbled. Then Mulhattan gave him 
the G. B. of the Sons of Malta. He was onto it. Then 
Mulhattan stuck out his hand and gave him the P. D. Q. 
sign of a Royal Arch Brick Mason. He was on that. 
Then Mulhattan examined him as follows to make sure 
he was a drummer : 

“ From whence comest thou, pard ?” 

“ From the Lodge of the Holy St. Johns, Bucyrus, O.” 

“ What seek ye here to do ?” 

“To take a few orders and collect a bill.” 

“ Then you are a drummer ?” 

“I am so taken and accepted by all the boys.” 

“ How may I know you to be a drummer?” 

“By my cheek and fifty pound sample case. Try 
me.” 

“How will you be tried ?” 

“ Bv the Square.” 

“ Why by the Square ?” 

“ Because the Square is a Magistrate and an emblem 
of stupidity.” 

“Where \yere you first prepared for a drummer? ,? 


38 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


“ In my mind.” 

“ Where next ?” 

“ In a printing office, adjoining a regular post of 
drummers.” 

“ How were you prepared ?” 

“By being divested of my last cent, my cheek rubbed 
down with a brick, a bunion plaster over each eye and 
a heavy sample case in each hand. In this fix I was 
conducted to the door of the post.” 

“ How did you know it was a door, being blind ?” 

“ By first stepping in a coal scuttle, and afterwards 
bumping my head against the door knob.” 

“ How gained you admission ?” 

“ By the benefit of my cheek.” 

“ Had you the required cheek ?” 

“I had not, but John Smith had it for me.” 

“ How were you received ?” 

“ On the sharp toe of a boot, applied to my natural 
trousers.” 

“What did this teach you ?” 

“Not to fool around too much.” 

“What happened next?” 

“ I was set down on a cake of ice and asked if I put 
my trust in mercantile reports.” 

“ Your answer ?” 

“ Not if I know myself, I don’t.” 

“ How was you next handled ?” 

“ I was put straddle of a goat made out of a 2x4 scant¬ 
ling and trotted nine times around the room by four 
worthy brothers and then brought in front of the Left 
Bower for further instructions,” 


With Gripsack . 


39 


u How did he instruct you ?” 

“ To approach a customer in three upright regular 
steps, with my business card extended at right angles, 
my arms forming a perfect square.” 

“ How was you then disposed of ?” 

“ I was again seated on the cake of ice in front of a 
dry goods box and made to take the following horrible 
and binding oath : 

“I, Charles S. Robinson, do hereon and herein most 
everlastingly and diabolically swear that I will never 
reveal and always steal all the trade secrets I can for the 
use and benefit of this Most August Order. And I 
further swear that I will never give, carve, make, hold, 
take or cut prices below the regular rates. And I further 
swear by the T. P. A. to never have any commercial 
dealings with any man or his wife, sister, grandmother, 
old maid aunt, uncle or cousin unless he, she or it is 
sound on the goose. Binding myself under no less a 
penalty than to have my gripsack slit from top to 
bottom, my dirty shirts and socks taken out, and my 
reputation removed and buried in the river at Sandusky 
street bridge, where the Salvation Army ebbs and flows 
every two and one-half hours. So help me Bob Inger- 
soll, and keep me in backbone.” 

“ I was then asked what I needed.” 

‘ What was your reply ?” 

“ Money !” 

“ What did you then behold ?” 

“A copy of Dun & Co.’s reports, open at the chapter 
Bucyrus. Upon the open book rested a pair of drug 
scales, in one pan of which reposed ten pounds of con¬ 
centrated lye, and in the other sat a small silver jack¬ 
ass.” 

“ What did this emblem signify ?” 


40 


O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


“The scales indicated the balance between the debtor 
and the creditor. The other emblems represented the 
liabilities and assets of bankrupts.” 

“ Did this teach you any lesson ?” 

“You bet. It taught me the fact, the former are gen¬ 
erally so almighty much better than the latter.” 

“ Shake, brother. * * * Will you be off or from ?” 

“Both, if I can borrow money enuff to get out of 
town.” 

“ Have you any cigars ?” 

“ I have.” 

“ Give ’em to me.” 

“ I did not so receive ’em, neither will I so impart 
’em.” 

“ How will you dispose of ’em ?” 

“ On sixty days’ time or 2 per cent, off for cash.” 

“ All right, begin.” 

“ No, you begin.” 

“Up.” “’Em.” “Set.” 

“ ‘ Set ’em up.’ The words and sign are right, 
Brother Brown.” 

Brother Mulhattan and I each lent the chap $2, and 
he left with many thanks and kind wishes. 

Now you can see by this what a help it is to a fellow 
when he gets dead broke among strangers to have these 
little things to fall back on. 


The Country Merchant says : How many bright young 
fellows have started out on the road with great expecta¬ 
tions of becoming successful salesmen and have “ dropped 
on themselves ” in three months. Some of them you 
piay find occupying insignificant positions in wholesale 



With Gripsack . 


4i 


stores, but the majority are doing nothing. It is a pain¬ 
ful fact that a great number of young men who have all 
the mental advantages to make good business men are 
influenced when on the road by idle associates ; puffed 
up to the verge of exploding with the conceit that their 
house selected them for promotion, they soon become 
lukewarm under the impression that they are too “ solid ” 
for censure. It is strange how many more will prefer 
the example of the idlers than to follow in the wake of 
the steady hard workers. A youth sent out on the road 
for the first time, unlimited in his expenses, has more 
dangers to encounter than the mythical Saint George 
who defended the virgin from the fiery dragon. After 
all, it is a good nursery ; the weeds decay while the 
hardy plants blossom and bring forth fruit. The traveler 
who does an honest day’s work for his employer does a 
sure day’s work for himself—his value as a reliable and 
successful salesman is property that always finds a good 
market. 


The Commercial Traveler speaks as follows : The com¬ 
mercial traveler, if he be a good man—and as a class 
they are the best examples of American manhood that 
walk the earth—wields an immense influence. They are 
the middlemen between the manufacturer and dealer. 
They are the men that build up trade. They are the 
men that come nearer controlling the commercial inter¬ 
ests of the world than any other class of men. They 
will, and many of them do, make their houses and give 
them the standing and dignity in commercial life that 
they enjoy. Such men are now appreciated. 

Boys, go to the top ; sell all-wool goods and thirty-six 
inches wide ; represent your wares for all they are worth, 



42 


O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


and no more. If your employers fail to appreciate your 
work, others are looking for such men. Patience, perse¬ 
verance, and persistent honest work will win in the end 
far better than shystering. Commercial men are not 
strikers unless it be for higher wages, and the best way 
to secure a raise is by making your service indispensable. 


ONLY A DRUMMER. 

He’s only a drummer, 

A Knight of the Grip, 

Boarding the train 
On his regular trip ; 

Leaving the joys and pleasures of home, 
Only a drummer, poor fellow, to roam. 

How is your trade ? 

“ Well, pretty dull.” 

Such is his greeting, 

“My stock’s about full.” 

“ Got something new. 

Give you full control. 

Give me an order. 

Start the ball roll.” 

“Ten off. Sixty days, 

Just sells like hot cakes. 

I tell you it pays. 

Don’t buy all the cheap fakes.” 

His customer sold, 

Goes to his hotel, 

Copies his orders, 

Taps at the bell. 



43 


With Gripsack . 

Night comes at length, 

He sits there alone, 

Thinking of mother 

And loved ones at home. 

A stranger, poor fellow ; 

Knows no one in town. 

Do you wonder he drinks, 

His dull care to drown ? 

Some people despise him 
Because of his class, 

But he stands head and shoulders 
Above all the mass. 

Because some are bad 
He a stigma must bear. 

Poor, lonely drummer, 

Thy lot is not fair. 

A big-hearted boy 

Is the lad of the road, 

But it sullies his joy 
To carry that load. 

Why not band all together, - 
Ye boys of the grip, 

And stand by each other 
Wherever ye trip. 

Yes, stand as a phalanx, 

Ye boys of the road. 

Let each help the other 
To shoulder his load. 


Will J. Robinson. 


44 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


THE LAST TRIP. 

The drummer stood with grip in hand 
Before St. Peter’s gate, 

And asked that he admitted be, 

As it was growing late. 

St. Peter frowned. Said he, “What ground 
Have you for coming here? 

The road you go is down below ; 

Your record is not clear.” 

The drummer shook. Said he, “Your book 
Must be a trifle wrong ; 

My story hear, and if sincere 
Please let me join the throng.” 

St. Peter smiled. Said he, “ My child, 

Have you lived good and pious? 

’Tis known afar that drummers are 
Disciples of Ananias.” 

“ Hast never been so full of gin 

Thy name thou could’st not utter?” 

“Alas ! ’tis so.; I have I know,” 

St. Peter heard him mutter. 

“ Hast poker played and stayed and stayed 
All through the night and Sunday ?” 

“Ah ! yes, ’tis so ; I’ve played I know, 

And even up to Monday.” 

The drummer sighed, and then he cried : 
“I’m guilty, I’ll admit, 

But I’ll tell you my story through, 

And trust I’ll make a hit. 


45 


VVith Gripsack . 

" I’ve rievei 4 told the men I’ve sold 
Our goods were far superior, 

All others made a lower grade 
And quality inferior. 

“ Then you can bet I never yet 
Have stuffed an order till 
’Twas twice the size ’twould ope the eyes 
Of him who bought the bill. 

“I never skin a sleeper in 
And sleep upon the seat; 

I never pass on second-class, 

Nor on a ‘mileage’ beat. 

“ I have, forsooth, a love for truth, 

And use it with respect; 

I never prate of over-weight 
On baggage I have checked. 

“ I never scowl, or even growl, 

When put up in the garret. 

And always eat sole-leather meat, 

And murmur not but bear it. 

“Though I’m a knave I never gave 
A waiter dime or quarter, 

And always skipped and never tipped 
The ebony Pullman porter.” 

St. Peter gasped, and then he grasped 
The hand that held the baggage ; 

He rang the bell, then “Front” did yell : 
“ Here, take this gentleman’s luggage. 


4 6 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


“ Give him the best cloud in the place— 

Take him to eighty-seven— 

The man who beats the Pullman pests 
Deserves the best in heaven.” 

Charles E. Bibber. 


A LA MODE MUSKEGON. 

Waitress — “Wevehamaneggsanbeefulamanporkantat- 
ersanteaancoffanbiskitswotlyerhave ?” 

Drummer—“ Yes.” 

I Waitress—“ Wellwotlyerave ? 

Drummer—“Gimmesomehamneggsanbeefulambnpork- 
antatersanteaancoffanbiskits.” 

Waitress informs proprietor that drummer insulted her. 


“THERE’LL BE NO KICKERS THERE.” 

I want to take a ticket through to realms of endless joy, 

Where grumbling “ kickers ” can’t invade to worry and 
annoy ; 

I’m tired of this turmoil life, and long to travel where 

Cross, chronic cranks can never come—there’ll be no 
kickers there. 

I want to lay my samples down and drop my little “ grip.” 

To bid farewell to tough beefsteak, and ne’er more wait¬ 
ers tip ; 

No hackmen will be there to growl, or charge me double 
fare, 

For you can bet your blooming life—there’ll be no 
kickers there. 




With Gripsack . 47 

In that celestial home above there’ll be no more hard 
beds ; 

There’ll be no heavy lushing nights—in morning no 
“ big heads 

No kicking when you “ rake the pot ” on one small measly 
“ pair,” 

For you can bet your bottom “doll”—there’ll be no 
kickers there. 

There’ll be no baggage smashers there—no charge for 
extra weight; 

No growling when you come to meals—because it is too 
late ; 

And when you want your wages raised the boss won’t 
tear his hair, 

Your drafts will all be honored then—there'll be no 
kickers there. 

Then take me to that better land, where drummers have 
release 

From all the cares and woes of life, to live for’er in peace ; 

If orders then I fail to take—there’ll be no boss to swear, 

Or tell me that I am no good—there’ll be no kickers 
there. 

Joe Ker. 


THE DRUMMER’S DREAM. 

In a little room in a little hotel, 

In a little country town, 

In a little bed—with a musty smell, 

A man was lying down. 



48 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


A great big man with a great big snore, 

For he lay on his back, you see ; 

And a peaceful look on his face he wore, 

For sound asleep was he. 

In his dreams what wonderful trips he made, 
And the piles of goods he sold, 

And nobody failed, and every one paid, 

And his orders were good as gold. 

He smiled and smothered a scornful laugh, 
When his fellow drummers blowed ; 

For he knew no other had sold the half 
Of what his order book showed. 

He got a letter from the firm one day 
Saying : “ We’ve no fitter term 

To use in your case than say, 

Hereafter you are one of our firm.” 

A glorious change this made in his life, 

And he from the road withdrew 

And really got acquainted with his wife, 

His sons and his daughters, too. 

But a thump and a bang, and a bang again, 
The porter was knocking at the door— 

“ It is almost time for the six o’clock train,” 
And the drummer’s dream is o’er. 


“ DRUMMERS’ JOKES.” 

“ No man need be a pedant any more than he need be 
a fool. But he should endeavor to say something more 
than the last scandal, or be able to tell you something 



With Gripsack . 


49 


more witty and humorous than a drummer's last lewd 
tale" (italics ours). From this one may infer that the 
tenor and bent of tales issuing from the lips of a drum¬ 
mer were of a character not suited to ears polite or fit to 
be rehearsed in respectable society. But this is not 
correct, for if one takes but the trouble to inquire and 
trace out the source and issue of these questionable 
tales, he will discover that their authorship is not of the 
drummer class although unfortunately they are credited 
therewith. We remember the time when every smutty 
yarn was attributed to President Lincoln, and there are 
many people who even now regard him as the originator 
and retailer of jokes and sayings full of indecencies and 
obscene suggestions. He was humorous and full of 
native wit, but we never heard of any one who could 
truly assert that they had heard questionable stories fall 
from his lips. Many a coarse jest that had its birth in 
the prurient imagination of some obscure individual, 
was credited as coming from him, and were wrongly 
dubbed, “ One of Lincoln’s jokes.” 

The same method obtains to-day with the drummer’s 
jokes, so-called ; he is credited as their author, and they 
are retailed in his name so often that the “drummer’s 
jokes’’has become a synonym for every vulgar anec¬ 
dote or double-entendre story. That there are drum¬ 
mers who endeavor to gain a notoriety for retailing 
nastiness is, alas, too true, but they are, thank heaven, 
becoming less numerous day by day, and the sooner 
they disappear from the ranks of the traveling salesmen 
the better for themselves and the character and stand¬ 
ing of their fellows. 

If the term drummer is to be associated with lewd 
sayings, the sooner the traveling fraternity ignore that 
nickname the better, and take up and adopt, per force, 


50 


0 y er Rail and Cross -Ties 


if necessary, the term commercial traveler. We may 
hear and have heard of drummers’ jokes, but we fail to 
hear and never will hear of commercial travelers’ jokes 
as being coupled with lewdness and garnished with pro¬ 
fanity .—Commercial Traveler. 


“WILL THE ‘DRUMMER’ BE CROWDED OUT?” 

The above question heads a recent article in the 
Columbus Dispatch relative to the action of a Phila¬ 
delphia firm who furnished round-trip tickets to a 
hundred or more of its customers, together with an in¬ 
vitation for them to visit the above city and become 
personally acquainted with the people with whom they 
were dealing. The columns of The National Com¬ 
mercial Traveler is the channel through which the 
negative of the proposition can be best discussed, being, 
as it is, the conduit reaching the greatest possible 
number of those likely to feel an interest in the reasons 
adduced. The present supervisor of the census will 
likely report at least 68,000,000 of population in the 
United States. Of this number there will likely be 
at least 1,100,000 merchants and 250,000 commercial 
travelers. This last class places or disposes of at least 
80 per cent, of the entire commerce of the nation. They 
number six times as many able-bodied men as the 
standing army of the nation. As peacefully inclined 
as they are assiduous in the prosecution of their enter¬ 
prises, they visit every city, village, and hamlet through¬ 
out the broad domain of the nation, and in every valley 
and upon every hill-top may be discerned the banner of 
this grand commercial army, bearing upon its folds 
the legend, “ELY.” Yankee genius has accomplished 



With Gripsack 51 

marvelous results in the invention of labor-saving 
machinery. The introduction of these machines has 
displaced ninety-nine out of every one hundred persons 
engaged in the manufacture of wall paper, eighty out of 
one hundred engaged in the manufacture of boots and 
shoes,the same number of those engaged as farm hands, 
sixty-six and two-thirds per cent, of those engaged in 
the manufacture of’cotton cloths, and so on, through the 
entire catalogue, displacement has come to labor in a 
greater or less degree ; but even Connecticut, the land 
of wooden nutmegs, the paradise of pumpkin pies, has 
utterly failed to produce a substitute for a commercial 
traveler. You have never seen one of them stamped 
“ patented. ” They are fresh and pure, as they came 
from the hands of their Creator, and are proof against 
the incursions of the inventor, because , in matters of 
invention, they are authority, and the fountain will not 
rise higher than its source. The Philadelphia firm 
referred to had no thought of doing away with their 
traveling men, but sought rather to assist them by 
bringing dealer and customer into more friendly 
relations. It may come to pass that the “drummer" 
will have to go, but the commercial traveler is here to 
stay, and the firm who has the element of liberality set 
forth so conspicuously in their intercourse with their 
patrons is entirely too far advanced to lose sight of the 
fact that the commercial traveler is not only the 
advance-guard of commerce, but its life-guard as well ; 
that if he be loyal to the interests confided to him he 
will be ready at all times to repel by his ballot, with 
his voice and his strong arm, the incursions of foes to 
those interests from without or depredations from with¬ 
in. It is a recognized fact that it is an economic move¬ 
ment for the 250,000 to go to the 1,100,000 rather than 


52 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


to reverse the operation, and it don’t take a very long¬ 
headed mathematician to figure out the problem that 
one ticket from Philadelphia to Chicago, or the expense 
of the trip, will be but one-fourth as much as for 
four persons to go from Chicago to Philadelphia, thus 
incurring the expense of four similar trips instead of 
one ; yet this does not correctly state the commercial 
side of the proposition of the traveling man going to 
see his trade instead of they going to see him, because 
the first only put it in proportion to the number of each 
class relatively, while, in fact, when the traveling man 
goes to Chicago he doesn’t confine his visit to four, the 
proportion as above stated, but probably sees fifty, and 
in the course of his visit west he calls upon five hundred, 
at a very small additional expense attached to each of 
these calls. To state that the system of disposing of the 
products of the country through the agency of traveling 
men is a very great expense, argues nothing. It is 
equally true that railroads to transport the tonnage thus 
disposed of is a great expense, that steamships are 
expensive, that the telephone, the telegraph, are a great 
additional expense in the conducting of the business of 
the country, that rents, taxes, and in fact every other 
item of expense adds to the cost of doing business, and 
that the merchandise has to stand it ; yet to attempt to 
carry on the present system of commerce without them, 
would be considered an act of insanity. It is safe to 
assume that the commercial traveler will stay, for the 
same reasons that these other little conveniences will be 
retained. The proposition for us to discuss is not 
whether the craft is to be crowded out by modern in¬ 
novations, but how can we become most effective as the 
handmaiden of the great and growing necessities of 
the future America, What of that epoch in our 


With Gripsack. 


53 


country’s history when 1,200,000,000 of population and 
2,900,000 commercial travelers shall have sprung from 
the loins of the nation ? Statistics show that period to 
be less than a century distant. As in the past the 
lines have been continually drawing nearer between 
cost and selling price, so in the future the limit of 
margins will continue to narrow in. A readjustment of 
some item of expense must stand a portion of the loss. 
Where shall it come from ? Shall we, like the man who 
“fit” at Gettysburg, continue to act on the inde¬ 
pendent plan ? or is it better that we unify ourselves 
and see that each factor in the business transactions of 
the country stands its proportionate part? If the 
merchant accepts a lower profit, tiie salesman must 
stand the rest of tiie decline, unless he and the merchant 
can persuade the transportation companies to meet 
them on a common plane of mutual interest. The 
merchant is not getting war profits, the salesman is not 
receiving war salary. Why should the railroad have war 
rates ? The above question is the query ; here followeth 
the answer : Because the merchants of the country, 
together with their salesmen, have thus far failed to 
enter a combined protest. Moral : Let us combine. 

Jno. C. Fenimore. 


COMMERCIALS CLASSIFIED. 

“ I have just finished a pleasant job,” said a prominent 
traveling man lately to a Macon Telegraph man. 

“ It was one which took some time, but I am satisfied 
with the results. I was just sizing up the different 
members of the fraternity, and the thought struck me, 
why not grade them ? 



54 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


“ Here they are : 

“Class i. The drummer, the every day, common- 
sense, hard-working, travel-day-or-night fellow, sells lots 
of ‘stuff’ on close margins, his career is devoid of all 
ambition other than that of his profession, and to whom 
the term ‘ holiday ’ is a misfit phrase. He wears store- 
bought clothes, and is—generally broke. 

“ Class 2. The commercial traveler, self-styled, is the 
most attractive young fellow on the earth, takes the 
world easy, sells the better grade of goods, and does it 
‘nicely,* wears tailor-made clothing. He knows a few 
‘drummers,’ smokes three-for-a-quarter cigars, takes 

apollinaris with his-; is usually of a cynical turn of 

mind, but on good terms with the whole world. His 
trade looks him up at the hotel after business hours, for 
he is‘straight goods,’ and ‘takes well.’ Like the drum¬ 
mer, however, lie is—generally broke. 

“ Class 3. Calls himself a traveling representative. 
He holds a small working interest in some big firm for 
whom he has made ‘big money,’ a firm which needs his 
services, but has adopted this method of keeping from 
paying him the salary he is worth. It reduces the T. R.’s 
income ; but who would sacrifice income for the glory 
of being admitted to the firm ? He is most generally a 
fine, handsome young fellow of good address, polished 
manners, genial, jovial, liberal, has a ‘ mash ’ on his trade, 
unexceptional in attire, the idol of the hotel. Yet, he 
too, is—generally broke. 

“ Class 4. Like to be called commercial tourists, 
mostly middle-aged, very passe , usually unsuccessful 
merchants who entered business with the idea of ‘doing 
it all.’ They still know everything, and tell it, usually 
recommended from smaller towns by his friends (?) who 
want to get rid of him and yet serve him. He is the 



With Gripsack . 


ss 

man of ‘ gall,’ which constitutes his stock in trade, and he 
works it for all it is worth. They affect elderly society 
and don’t mix with the drummers ; have a look of having 
seen better days, and their dress shows it. They are 
generally, most generally—broke. 

“Class 5. Commercial angels are what we delight to 
term these darlings of the real alligator grip—bless their 
little hearts ; they generally travel for papa or uncle, who 
dotes on them and hopes to reform them by this kind of 
experience ; they are getting to be too numerous latterly. 
But their ‘ toilets ’ are ravishing, their raiment is dainty ; 
doesn’t give much time to business, but is not his fault : 
twenty-four hours is entirely too short to get through 
his affairs in. Altogether ‘ they make me tired.’ We 
are going to annihilate this class from our profession, 
and will soon begin the slaughter of these innocents, so 
doting papas will please take notice. I forgot to say that 
if the money these fellows spend had to be earned by 
themselves, they, too, would be entirely broke. 

“ That is all. I have got them fine, haven’t I ?” 


STRANGE, IF TRUE. 

A well known Dallas drummer tells a story that shows 
at what a low ebb the religion of Kansas City drummers 
is popularly supposed to be. Lighting a fresh cigar, he 
proceeded : 

“I was stopping at a certain hotel in Western Texas 
the other night, and the room being a little circum¬ 
scribed, the landlord asked me if I had any objection to 
occupying the same room with a Kansas City drummer. 
I had been with the missionary from the mouth of the 
Kaw nearly all day, and rather liked him, as he was 



O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


5<> 

decidedly on my style. He could tell more yarns than 
anybody I ever saw, chewed tobacco, and, in fact, went 
all the gaits. He was a thoroughbred. 

“Isignified my willingness to go in the same cell with 
him, and after smoking and knocking around awhile 
after supper, we repaired to our room. He told me 
several tough yarns, and remarked incidentally that it 
was a darned poor hotel. 

“ By this time he was undressed, and after saying he 
would retire, he fell down on his knees with his face on 
the bed. The first thing that occurred to me was that 
he must have a fit, and the next thing was that if he 
should die on my hands I would have a time explaining 
the thing away. At all events, it would necessitate my 
staying over another day in town. Not wishing to do 
this, I sang out to the hotel clerk and at the same time 
took hold of the man to place him on the bed, thinking 
he would recover more speedily by being more comfort¬ 
ably stretched out. By this time the landlord, his wife, 
several guests, four or five kids and a lame negro 
gathered in the room. 

“Under my magnetic touch, by the laying on of my 
hand, the Kansas City man came to. He got up in 
high dudgeon. He said he had heard a great deal about 
Texas being heathenish. He also remembered what 
Phil. Sheridan said about it, but he had no idea of 
creating a sensation, or exciting a whole town or dis¬ 
turbing the peace, by simply kneeling down and saying 
his prayers before retiring. 

“ Well, you can imagine how I felt. Such a thing as a 
Kansas City drummer saying his prayers had never 
entered my head. In fact, I told him that such conduct 
in a drummer was unheard of in this country. At that 
time the landlady chipped in and said she would rather 


With Gripsack . 57 

he would pay in advance or stop at another hotel. He 
said he never wanted to stop there again, and taking his 
grip, left, saying he would settle with me outside the 
corporate limits. I apologized to him and warned him 
not to make any more breaks while in Western 
Texas ”—Northwest Trade. 


A SOLID (S)MASH. 

Jauntily into the car he came 
With a busy, breezy air, 

And spied a seat unoccupied 
By the side of a maiden fair. 

“ May I sit here beside you ?” 

He asked with a smile quite bold. 

“ There’s nothing to prevent you, sir," 
She answered clear and cold. 

“ Ha ! ha !” said he unto himself, 
“She little knows my power ; 

I’ll have her chinning, sweetly, too, 
Within the next half hour.” 

“ Ahem ! ’tis quite a lovely day,” 

He said, she answered “ Yes, sir, 

But by the looks of those dark clouds 
We’ll have a storm, I guess, sir.” 

And so they sat in converse sweet, 

She smiling, he grew bolder, 

For soon his arm was round her waist, 
Her head laid on his shoulder. 



O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


There came from out the smoking car 
A form tall, gaunt and thin. 

A murderous gleam shot from its eye, 

As it took the whole scene im 

With a terrible scowl, and a horrid howl 
He landed a fearful blow 
Right smack on the back of the traveler's neck. 
A collision ? whirr ! whiz ! Oh ! Oh ! 

They gently raised the body up 
From under the seat where it lay, 

And restored it to its normal, 

With the usual spiritual spray. 

“ How many are killed,” says the traveler, 

“ Is the whole train off the track ? 

I feel as if the Pullman car 
Had telescoped on my back.” 

“ Dere was no collish,” said the gaunt one, 

Yer can blame it all on tu me ; 

Yer were off yer base, wid yuer arm round her 
waist. 

So I knocked yer out, d’ye see.” 

“ Was this seat engaged ?” said the traveler, 

As he quickly sprang on his feet. 

“ You can bet your sweet life,” says the smasher. 
“I’m engaged to de gal and de seat.” 

Moral. 

If with girls in half occupied seats, 

You attempt to flirt, or to joke, 

Make sure “ she ain’t got a feller ” 

In the other car taking a smoke. 


C. E. Bibber. 


With Gripsack . 


59 


o 


CHAPTER II. 

DRUMMER’S POETRY. 

Like a piece of drift-wood 
Tossed on a watery main, 

Another piece encounters, 

Meets, touches—parts again. 

Thus ’tis with drummers ever, 

On life’s tempestuous sea, 

We meet, we greet, we sever ; 

Drifting Eternally. 

Then why not treat us kindly. 

Ye men of wealth and lore, 

For soon in God’s own Kingdom 
We’ll meet to part no more. 

And there we’ll sing his praises, 

And glorious anthems hum, 

And thank our Heavenly Father 

There are no merchants there to drum. 


HE WAS A DRUMMER. 

He was a nobby traveler, 

A drummer from New York, 

Who never eat his pie unless 
He did it with a fork. 



6o 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


One day he saw a pretty girl 
Upon the “ Through Express.” 

She couldn’t get the window up, 

And seemed in sore distress. 

“ Ah, Miss, permit me,” and he flew 
To help the fair young girl ; 

He fixed the window and began 
His fine moustache to twirl. 

And smiling like a son of Gaul, 

(The French are always sweet,) 

He asked if he could occupy 
A portion of the seat. 

She let him in—she sized him up— 

She shook her pretty fan. 

And said to him, in dulcet tones. 

“Ain’t you a traveling man?” 

“ Yes, Miss,” he answered—sweet and low, 
And reached out for her fan, 

“But is it such a grievous sin 
To be a traveling man ?” 

“ I reckon not,” she made reply, 

“ But father seems to think, 

’Twixtbad and worst the traveler makes 
The great connecting link. 

“He’s out there on the platform now, 

And looking mighty blue, 

So if you are a traveling man, 

You’ll travel P. D. Q.” ? 


Moral. —He traveled. 


With Gripsack. 


61 


SATIRE ON THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER. 

“ Is this seat engaged ?” he asked of the prettiest girl 
in the car, and finding that it wasn’t, he put his sample 
box in the rack and braced himself up for solid enjoy¬ 
ment. 

“Pleasant day,” said the girl, coming for him before 
he could get his tongue unkinked. “ Most bewildering 
day, isn’t it ?” 

“Y-yes, miss,” stammered the drummer. He was in 
the habit of playing pitcher in this kind of a match, and 
the position of catcher didn’t fit him as tight as his pan¬ 
taloons. 

“Nice weather for traveling,” continued the girl, 
“much nicer than when it is cold. Are you perfectly 
comfortable ?” 

“ Oh, yes, thanks,” murmured the drummer. 

“Glad of it,” resumed the girl, cheerfully. “You 
don’t look so. Let me put my shawl under your head, 
won’t you ? Hadn’t you rather sit next to the window 
and have me describe the landscape to you ?” 

“No, please,” he murmured, “I am doing well 
enough.” 

“ Can I buy some peanuts or a book ? Let me do 
something to make the trip happy ! Suppose I slip my 
arm around your waist! Just lean forward a trifle, 
please, so that I can !” 

“You’ll—you’ll have to excuse me,” gasped the 
wretched drummer ; “ I don’t think you really mean it.” 

“You look so tired,” she pleaded; “wouldn’t you 
like to rest your head on my shoulder? No one will 
notice. Just lay your head right down and I’ll tell you 
stories.” 


62 


O' cr Rail and Cross -Ties 


“ No, thanks ! I won’t to-day ! I’m very comforta¬ 
ble,” and the poor drummer looked around helplessly. 

“ Your scarf-pin is coming out. Let me fix it. There!” 
and she arrayed it deftly. “At the next station I’ll get 
you a cup of tea, and when we arrive at our destination 
you’ll let me call on you ?” and she smiled an anxious 
prayer right into his pallid countenance. 

“ I think I’ll go away and smoke,” said the drum¬ 
mer, and hauled down his gripsack and made a bolt 
for the door, knee-deep in grins showered upon him 
by his fellow passengers. 

“ Strange !” murmured the girl to a lady in front of 
her. “ I only did with him just what he was making 
ready to do with me, and big and strong as he is, he 
couldn’t stand it. I really think women have stronger 
stomachs than men ; besides that, there isn’t any smok¬ 
ing-car for them to fly to for refuge. I don’t understand 
this thing.” But she settled back contentedly all the 
same ; and at a convention of drummers, held in the 
smoker that morning, it was unanimously resolved that 
the seat was engaged, as far as they were concerned, for 
the balance of the season. 


A DRUMMER’S REMEDY. 

One night this spring on a train coming east on the 
Erie road, the porter of a sleeping-car aroused half a 
dozen of the male sleepers to ask if they had anything 
with them to cure a case of colic. A drummer for a 
city hardware house fumbled around in his coat and 
finally said : 

ft Here’s a box of soda-mints which may help him. 



With Gripsack . 63 

He can use the whole box and be hanged to him, for he’s 
no business to have colic !” 

Nothing further was heard of the case until morning, 
when a strapping young man, with a far-West look to 
his hair, came into the sleeper with the mint box in his 
hand and inquired for the drummer, and said : 

“Took ’em all but one, and they smashed my colic 
right in the eye. How much to pay ?” 

“Nothing, sir. I’m only too glad to have been of 
service to you.” 

When the other had gone the drummer opened the 
box and we saw his hair trying to climb up. 

“ Great Scott, boys; but what do you think ?” he 
gasped. 

“ What is it ?” 

“ I gave him the wrong box, and he’s swallowed eleven 
bone collar buttons !”— M. Quad ’ in New York Evening 
World. 


MEN ON THE ROAD. 

A man without brains has no business on the road. 

Why ? 

Because, to become a successful salesman, a man 
requires a head full of that needful commodity. And 
we do not mean merely brains in quantity, but in quality. 

Without brains—well cultivated, harrowed, plowed, 
raked and weeded—a man can not be ingenious. 

A drummer must be full of ingenuity. 

Without brains he cannot be apt, quick, thoughtful. 

A drummer must possess all these qualifications. 

He meets and deals with all kinds of men. He “ stacks 
up” against a perfect medley of human nature—pleas¬ 
ant men, cross men, dyspeptic men, religious men, sport- 



64 


O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


ing men, business men, and men with no idea of busi¬ 
ness methods—all kinds, all sorts, all nationalities^ 

The drummer meets all these people under all sorts of 
conditions and under a variety of circumstances. He is 
expected to deal witli them all successfully, 

Then he needs brains, doesn’t he? 

He must be a man of ready resource—ready to smile, 
to laugh, whoop ’er-up, feel ugly and act sweet, be able 
to sympathize, sorrow, and if need be, weep! And with 
all this, he must never lose his independence. He must 
be a man all the time. 

And show me a successful salesman who isn’t a man 
all the way through, and I’ll show you a duck that can’t 
swim.— Cor. Supply World. 


THAT BELL BOY. 

When I became a commercial traveler, I felt that I had 
a mission to perform in the interest of the fraternity. I 
believed that there were a good many abuses lingering 
about the hotels of the land which might be ameliorated 
with the aid of a good hard cheek and plenty of kicking. 

The first abuse against which I set my lance was the 
bell boy abuse. The bell boy is born, not made. He 
rageth about the corridors of the inn, seeking whom he 
may aggravate unto the pitch of profanity. Early in my 
mad career I became convinced that he who could take 
the hide off from two bell boys where the hide of only 
one had been taken before would go down to posterity 
as a public benefactor. 

I resolved to make an example of the first bell boy 
who fell into my hands. 

I found him on the line of the Michigan Central rail* 



With Gripsack . 


65 


way, and a more innocent looking rascal I never met. 
He sat on a bench in the office reading “ Bloody Bob ; 
or the Black Burglar from Blindman’s Bay.” It was in 
the middle of the afternoon, but I went to my room for 
the express purpose of holding an executive session with 
him. 

I rang the bell at 2:45 an d sat down to write some 
letters. At 3:05 the door opened with a bang and my 
friend of the gory romance entered. 

“ Did you ring ?” 

“Did I ring ?” I repeated, musingly. “I believe I did 
ring for some wood a long time ago, but the summer is 
here now, and you may bring me some ice water.” 

The youthful villain made a face at the door knob 
that would have done credit to Quilp, and went out. 

At 3:25 he came back with a pint of water and a piece 
of ice a trifle smaller than the marbles he was rattling in 
his pocket. 

“ What’s that ?” I asked. 

“ Ice water.” 

“ Where is the ice ?” 

“ In the water.” 

“Oh, I didn’t see it anywhere around and I thought 
perhaps you had it in one of your vest pockets. Ice 
comes high now?” 

“This ice come four stories high. Anything else ?” 

“Yes, if you think you can get back before dark go to 
the bar and get me a cigar.” 

“ Fiver ten ?” 

“ Ten.” 

At 3:45 he came back with a broken cigar and one 
match. 

“ Did you have to wait long, sonny ?” I asked. 

“ Huh ?” 


66 


O'er Rail and Cross'-Ties 


“ Did you have to wait long ?” 

“ Wot fer ?” 

“ For some bootblack to throw this away." 

“It’s just as I got it. Is that the first cigar you ever 
had, mister ?” 

Yes, sonny, and you may take it and tie it to the tail 
of the first cow you see climbing a telegraph pole." 

“ Anything else ?” 

“ Yes ; I’m coming here in January and you may as well 
begin to build a fire now. What became of Bloody Bob ?” 

“ Oh, he got fresh and the devil turned him into a 
drummer. Anything else ?” 

I couldn’t think of anything else just then, and the boy 
went away, leaving me to my letters and my sad thoughts. 
For the next half hour every one who passed my room 
stopped a moment and went away laughing. At last I 
opened the door and found this placard : 

Beware ! 

Crazy man in this room. 

Please do nothing to agitate him . 

I appealed from the bell boy to the clerk. 

If I could have secured possession of the boy for about 
ten minutes, the appeal would never have been taken. I 
saw the smiling face of the young imp peering around an 
angle of the hallway as I passed down stairs, but I did 
not attempt to catch him. Once or twice in my lifetime 
I have endeavored to arrest the small boy in his hasty 
flight, and I am satisfied that these were the most un¬ 
profitable moments I ever knew. 

I placed the placard on the counter before the clerk. 

“What's that?” he asked. 


With Gripsack, 


6 


M Read It.” 

He adjusted his eye-glasses to the bridge of a nose that 
immediately rejected them, and then he proceeded to 
read the placard without their assistance. 

“That seems to be all right," he said, with a smile 
meant to be encouraging. 

“But I found it posted on the door of my room." 

“ Oh ! inside or out ?" 

“Outside, you blasted idiot." 

“ Did you put it there ?" 

“ Did I put it there ? you-" 

“Oh, never mind," said the clerk, going back to his 
books, “ I didn’t know but you carried your sign with 
you when you traveled. Shall I do it up for you ?" 

I intimated to the clerk that if he’d take the bell boy 
and go out in the back yard I’d do them up. 

“Yes, yes," said the clerk impatiently, “I have plenty 
of opportunities like that. What’s the boy got to do 
with it ?" 

“ He put this thing on the door of my room, I tell you." 

The clerk hit the bell and young Asmodeus came 
skulking out of the check room. 

“ Did you make that?" asked the clerk. 

“ Noap." 

“ Did you post it on the door of No. 47 ?" 

“Noap." 

“ Ever see it before ?’’ 

“ Noap." 

“ You can go." 

He stepped around the corner of the counter, ran his 
tongue out about three inches, and vanished. 

I sank into a chair in a sort of daze. There were 
plenty of things I might have said, but as I ran them 



68 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


over in my mind they all seemed inadequate to the 
occasion. 

“See here,” I said at length to the clerk, “I believe 
you wrote that.” 

He never looked up from his books. 

“And bribed that young imp to hang it on the door 
of my room.” 

Scratch, scratch, scratch ! 

“And I’ll advertise your bed-buggy old shebang the 
whole length of the road !” 

The clerk hit the bell and the boy again skulked out 
of the check room. 

“Bring a bag of ice for this gentleman’s head and a 
pound of salt.” 

“ Yessir.” 

There wasn’t any use of my staying there and collect¬ 
ing a crowd, was there ? I went to my room and packed 
up. 

The bell boy nuisance still exists .—Michigan Tradesman. 


THE GENTLEMAN AND THE SNOB. 

There is something strange in the manner in which 
some men deport themselves when they arrive at a public 
house ora large hotel. The different temperaments dis¬ 
play different and ofttimes amusing traits that if they 
were told of they would deny most earnestly. But if 
any one will sit down in a prominent hotel office and 
watch the arrival of the commercial traveler, he will be 
both amused and instructed. The difference is so very 
striking that you will be forced to exclaim, “Can these 
men be following the same occupation ?” You can tell 
the gentleman the moment he puts down his baggage, 



With Gripsack. 69 

and the snob by the time he gets inside the door. But 
at the table—there is the place you will find blissful 
ignorance and unblushing effrontery. The man who 
was raised in a log cabin with a mud floor wants all the 
attention of the waiters, talks loudest, and tells you con¬ 
fidentially the house is going down ; don’t feed worth a 
cent any more; can’t get anything fit to eat ; will have 
to go home to recruit up. Now you can bet your last 
penny that fellow never saw the inside of a first-class 
hotel until his cheek got him a place with some house 
who wanted a cheap man. You will find them every now 
and then ; but they don’t last long. They are soon found 
out, and I ofttimes wonder why landlords don’t kick 
such men out of the house and toss their baggage on top 
of them .—Arkansas Gazette. 


C. T.’S AS PICTURED BY A YOUNG LADY. 

A bright Brockton girl has given the Gazette the follow¬ 
ing pen-picture of commercial travelers : 

“A placard is not needed ; it is marked upon them in 
some undefinable way—C. T. You can almost invariably 
tell them when you meet them. There may be a chance 
for a toss-up whether he is an actor or a C. T., but it is 
a slight one, and you are pretty sure to conclude—and 
rightly—that he is a commercial traveler. Not but what 
there are classes and classes in this particular class of 
mankind, and there are few you may not recognize. 

“ The first is the conspicuous C. T. You’ve seen him. 
If small-brimmed hats are fashionable, his is the smallest 
you have seen ; his ulster the longest, the cape the full¬ 
est ; his neck-scarf would make two for our most ambi¬ 
tious dudes ; his trousers are of the loudest plaid a sedate 



70 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


town would stand ; and in every item his clothing is 
extravagant. Withal, he is a good seller, and is most 
likely the head C. T. of the concern, and has just ‘run 
out for the day. Otherwise he comes in two kinds— 
the jewelry and the clothing man. 

“ The second class, whereof I speak, is an entirely dif¬ 
ferent genus homo . His dress is a little more quiet, very 
apt to be a pretty business suit, or an all-black one, and 
a silk hat with a crape band is always part of his toilet. 
He is not so dashing as his more conspicuously-dressed 
brethren, but has the reputation of being a worker. 

“ This one you’ve all met and rather liked. He is a 
‘good seller,’ been ‘on the road’ twenty to twenty-five 
years, and yet grasps your hand as though you were the 
one person on earth he really cared to see. His stories 
are new and good, and his inimitable way of telling them 
is a charm in itself. All the time, however, he is catch¬ 
ing you for a good round order, and you are surprised 
when the bill comes in. He has lived well, and dresses 
in the same spirit. You might take him for a prosperous 
business man, but there is still a something about him 
that proclaims him a C. T. 

“There is another style C. T. coming up. It’s hard to 
tell into just what he’ll develop ; unfortunately we are 
obliged to wait for that. However, he’s young, very 
young, and may improve, even though he does now think 
he knows it all, and listens with an O-don’t-spend-so- 
much-time-telling-me-what-I-know look, when his buyer 
makes some suggestion. He apes his elder brother in 
the matter of wide trousers and loud checks, and will 
get there himself one day.” 



With Gripsack. 


7 l 


A “ FUNNY” MAN FLAILED. 

The Dowden McElroy Grocery Co., of Kansas City, 
Mo., keep a funny man who, w’hen not disseminating his 
wonderful wit, fills up the time by buying cigars. 

About two months ago the representative of a well- 
known N. Y. manufacturer called there and inquired for 
the buyer. He happened to strike the funny man, who 
replied that the buyer had recently died. “ Well,” said 
the drummer, “ I can’t very well tackle a corpse to buy 
cigars, but if you have a live man anywhere handy I 
would like to see him.” “ There is no one attending to 
his duties as yet,” said Mr. Funnyman ; so the drummer 
took his grip and left. 

The other day the latter called again and met the 
funny man once more. “ Is the buyer in ?” he inquired. 
“No,” was the reply, “he is on the road and won’t be 
back for a week. “ What might his name be ?” pursued 
the drummer. “Gill,” promptly replied the funny man. 

As the drummer was about leaving the store he hap¬ 
pened to glance back and found Mr. Funnyman and two 
of his admiring friends convulsed with merriment, and 
smelling a mouse, he quietly stepped into the private 
office and made a few inquiries with results entirely 
uniooked for by Mr. Funnyman. 

The drummer, who stands six feet three in his boots, 
stalked into the sales-room with blood in his eye. “Who 
goes by the name of Bates here ?” he demanded. “ I do,” 
meekly responded the funny man. 

“Two months ago when I called here,” thundered the 
drummer, “you lied to me. You lied to me this morn¬ 
ing when you told me the buyer was on the road ; you 
lied a third time when you informed me that his name 


72 


O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


was ‘Gill/” and then followed such a word-spanking as 
ought to keep Mr. Funnyman Bates from sitting down 
for a month of Sundays. 

He had, indeed, become the “ corpse ” he had so amply 
described himself to be at the initial interview. He was 
utterly dumb, and looked the deadest man this side of 
the Missouri river. Slapping down his card on the desk 
in front of the bewildered “ Corpse,” the drummer added: 
“ You won’t forget me in a hurry, I guess, and if you 
shouldn’t happen to know my name, you’ll find it right 
here.” 

No doubt the funny man wishes that particular drum¬ 
mer would in future drum a certain territory where man¬ 
ufacturers are not troubled with the burning quality of 
their cigars, even if the brimstone is a little offensive. 

Gaf. 


THE STORY OF A COUNTRY INN. 

On a stormy November night a traveling man who 
had carried the grip for many years, and visited almost 
every town of consequence in the country, sat in the 
“office” of a small hotel in a tumble-down country 
town waiting for a train. He was sleek, well-fed and 
had every appearance of being prosperous and pleased 
with life. He had no business in this dilapidated village 
other than to change from one railroad to another. 

“ A beastly night,” he muttered, as a sudden gust of 
wind swept around the corner of the house, slapped the 
rain against the dingy window and drove it in a stream 
under the door, “a beastly night and a dreary place in 
which to spend four hours of tedious waiting.” 

Another fierce gust of wind caught in its damp 
clutches the creaking sign above the door, tore it from 



With Gripsack . 


73 


its fastenings, and hurled it to the wooden walk outside 
with a loud bang. The man started to his feet, glanced 
quickly around the cheaply furnished room, and then, 
with a smile at his own timidity, sank back in his chair, 
and, lighting a fresh cigar, composed himself to watch 
out the slowly creeping hours. He could hear the land¬ 
lord snoring in the kitchen behind the “office.” The 
round, chubby-faced clock above the counter ticked 
away at a lively rate ; the storm without raged on, and 
the traveler smoked and mused. Suddenly the door 
swung open noiselessly, and closed again. The gust of 
wind and rain that came into the room aroused the man 
from his reverie. He glanced up carelessly and then 
sat stilled into astonished silence. Just inside the door 
stood a girl of that age which brings to mind the rose¬ 
bud on the point of becoming a rose. A girl about to 
become a woman. Herdress was of the simplest pattern, 
and, drenched with the rain, clung closely to her form, 
which was strangely perfect. The face was fair, with 
the pink-white tinge of apple blossoms. Her eyes were 
large, and of a deep, dark blue, while around her neck 
and shoulders clung a mass of wet, wavy hair, shaded 
like a maple leaf after a frost. Putting one finger to her 
lips, she advanced cautiously to the traveler, and, bend¬ 
ing her face close to his, she whispered : 

“ Are you warm ?” 

“Yes,” he answered, and in spite of himself, his voice 
assumed a tone not unlike her own. 

“And comfortable ?” 

“As comfortable as one can be in such a dreary place 
as this. But you ? your garments are drenched with the 
rain and you must be cold.” 

“ Cold, cold ; no, I shall never be cold again,” she 
'Whispered passionately, “there is 3 fire burning here 


74 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


that will keep me always warm.” She laid one hand on 
her bosom as she spoke and the blue-veined lids trembled 
slowly down over her great soft eyes. 

The traveler, looking on her as she stood there with 
her beautiful face so full of sorrow, felt a strange thrill. 
He longed to put out his hand with a soothing touch, 
but a feeling he could not define restrained him. 

“ You have some one to love you,” she whispered with 
sudden earnestness, “ some one who thinks of you night 
and day wherever you are, and loves you more with 
every thought !” 

A vision of a thin, dark face, with brown eyes in which 
love seemed to swim like a star in a stream whenever 
they turned their light on him, rose suddenly before 
him, and he answered : 

“ Yes, there is such an one.” 

“ I was sure of it,” she replied. “ No one who is not 
so loved could look so peaceful, so contented, so happy.” 

She turned her face away, and in the dim light of the 
lamp he saw a tear upon her cheek, and he thought of a 
dewdrop on a white rose. 

“ I dreamed once that some one loved me like that. 
Listen. Months ago, when the grass was like a carpet 
and the hillsides were w r hite with daisy blossoms, there 
was one came here and sat as you do, waiting for a 
train. He was not like you, but tall and slender, with 
dark hair that clustered in ringlets about a broad, white 
brow, and with eyes like a dark night in summer. His 
voice was soft and low, and when he spoke to me the 
blood went to my heart with a rush that made me faint. 
And when he was gone it seemed not to flow at all. He 
came again, and we walked yonder by the stream in 
the moonlight. He told me of a beautiful city faraway ; 


With Gripsack . 75 

he spoke of his lonely life, of his great love for me—but 
he lied, he lied, he lied !” 

She did not say these last words with any show of 
passion, but they came in wailing sighs like the summer 
wind in the maples after a storm. 

Standing there with her hand on her heart, she was 
like one who had been struck with a dagger. The 
traveler was about to utter some word of consolation 
when she suddenly started, and looking round in a 
frightened way, she continued : 

“ I believed him, and trusted him and followed him, 
but he lied. The old man is asleep—if he should awake 
and find me here—but he must not—I must go away 
again. I only came to take a last look at the old home 
where I was so happy before he came. I will go now, 
you will not betray me ? I can trust you ? Yes, I feel 
that I can trust—” 

There was a noise in the kitchen, the door suddenly 
opened, and an old man, half awake, came into the room. 
The moment his eyes fell on the shrinking form of the 
girl before him, however, they flashed with the fire of 
passion, the bent form straightened, he raised a threaten¬ 
ing hand and cried : 

“ Girl, girl, have you come back to crush the heart 
you have already broken ? Out! Out ! and never let 
me see your face again.” 

She fell on her knees before him, sobbing. A moment 
she knelt there, her wet garments clinging about her, the 
mass of red-gold hair falling about her face until it 
swept the floor. The old man stood above her like a 
bent tree straightened by a storm. 

“ O, uncle, forgive me,” she moaned at length. “ I 
was weak, wrong, wicked, but I did not know. For 
God’s sake don’t drive me away, I did not know j” 


7 6 


O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


The fierceness faded out of the old man’s face as 
the red. light fades in the sunset sky. He stooped and 
took her in his arms, then, turning to the traveler, said 
slowly : 

“ You will please go, sir. We are better alone. I am 
sure you will go.” 

Out into the howling storm the traveler went, and the 
drops on his cheeks were not all of rain. A whistle in 
the distance, a rumble, a sudden fierce red eye growing 
out of the night, and the train had come and gone. In 
the little ragged village the cheap tavern stood hiding 
its great sorrow. The traveler traveled as before, and 
the great world rolled along and never knew, and never 
cared, of this drama of a little Country Inn. 

Charles Eugene Banks. 


THE DRUMMER TO HIS GRIP. 

Full many a weary mile, old Grip, 
We’ve traveled o'er together, 

Both in sunshine and in storm— 

In every kind of weather. 

How many hours you’ve waited, Grip, 
Alone in some hotel, 

While I was selling piles of goods, 

Or getting scooped like—well. 

I never was profane, old Grip, 

You never heard me swear— 

Not even when that bottle broke, 

And I’d no shirt to wear, 



With Gripsack. 


77 


How often you’ve held down the seat, 

You darling, dear old Grip, 

While I went to the smoking car 
With friends to take a su—smoke. 

I’ve trusted you with secrets, Grip. 

In fact you hold some now, 

Which, were they known at home, 

Would raise an awful row. 

You’ve kept my secrets well, old Grip, 

At home and “on the road,” 

Though scores and scores of times, old friend, 
You’ve carried a “ heavy load.” 

You’ve seen me shed some tears, old Grip, 
When no one else was nigh, 

And often tried to comfort me, 

With drinks of good old rye. 

We’ve seen some hard times, too, old Grip— 
Like me, you’ve stood abuse, 

Sometimes, like me, you’ve empty been, 

And sometimes “fuller ’n a goose.” 

Yet, I never saw the time, Grip, 

When you were really drunk, 

Though oftentimes I’ve had to “ preach ” 

To our old “ sample trunk.” 

We’re gray-haired, rusty chaps, old Grip, 

And don’t look very fine ; 

The ladies never notice us, 

As when we used to shine. 


5-8 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


You know the reason, too, old Grip, 
They know the world we’ve seen, 

So they “ catch on ” to newer grips, 
And traveling men in green. 

Oh, well, we’ve seen the time, old Grip, 
Whene’er we left the train, 

It was to leave some gentle heart 
Just fluttering with pain. 

And you could tell of letters, Grip, 

And faces, sweet and fair, 

Which I have left day after day, 

In your most sacred care. 

Well, we are aged now, Grip— 

I’m forty-nine, you’re seven ; 

Soon you’ll be “ laid upon the shelf,” 

I—sailing off towards Heaven. 

But we’ll stick together, Grip, 

The longest that we can, 

For, next to a woman, there’s no friend 
Like Grip to a traveling man. 


THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER. 

What would I do without “ the boys ?” How often 
they have been my friends. I go to a new town. I 
don’t know one hotel from another. I don’t know where 
to go. The man with the samples gets off at the same 
station. I follow him without a word or a tremor. He 
calls to the ’bus driver by name, and orders him to “get 
out of this now,” as soon as we are seated. And when I 
followed him I am inevitably certain to go to the best 



79 


With Gripsack. 

house there is in the place. He shouts at the clerk by 
name, and fires a joke at the landlord as we go in. He 
looks over my shoulder as I register after him, and hands 
me his card with a shout of recognition. He peeps at 
the register again, and watches the clerk assign me to 
ninety-eight. “Ninety-nothing,” he shouts, “ who’s in 
fifteen ?” The clerk says he is saving fifteen for Judge 
Dryasdust. “Well, he be blowed,” says my cheery 
friend ; “give him the attic and put the gentleman in 
fifteen.” And if the clerk hesitates, he seizes the pen 
and gives me the fifteen himself, and then he calls the 
porter, orders him to carry up my baggage and put a 
fire in fifteen, and then in the same breath, adds, “ What 
time will you be at supper, Mr. Burdette?” And he 
waits for me, and, seeing that I am a stranger in the 
town, he sees that I am cared for, and the waiters do not 
neglect me ; he tells me about the town, the people and 
the business. He is breezy, cheery, sociable, full of new 
stories, always good natured ; he frisks with cigars and 
overflows with “ thousand-mile tickets ;” he knows all the 
best rooms in all the hotels ; he always has a key for the 
car seats, and turns a seat for himself and his friends 
without troubling the brakeman, but he will ride on a 
wood-box or stand outside to accommodate a lady, or he 
will give his seat to an old man. I know him pretty well. 
For three years I have been traveling with him, from 
Colorado to Maine, and I have seen the worst and the 
best of him, and I know the best far outweighs the 
worst. I could hardly get along without him, and I am 
glad he is numerous. 


Bob Burdette. 


8 o 


O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


THE GENERAL AGENT. 

The Commercial Travelaire 
With a bold and fearless air 
Says unto his Customaire, 

You’d better buy, buy, buy ; 

For you’ll make a big mistake 
If you’re trying me to “ shake,” 

And these bargains you don’t “rake,” 
For they’ll be high, high, high. 

Here’s a line of corduroys 
Which are bound to make a noise 
And are bully for the boys, 

Lord, how they’ll wear, wear, wear. 
Better twig this lot of socks 
That you ought to take in “ blocks,” 
For the color never crocks 
As I can swear, swear, swear. 

Here’s St. Peter’s patent pills 
To relieve all earthly ills 
And reduce the doctors’ bill 

Throughout the land, land, land. 
With tobacco, snuff, cigars, 

Fancy soap in cakes and bars 
You should freight a train of cars 
If you’ve the sand, sand, sand. 

Which reminds me,—what a jump 
Sugars took, refined and lump, 

While lard just makes us hump 
To fill our trade, trade, trade, 


With Gripsack . 81 

You will need our style of boots 
(With the maker we’re “ cahoots ”), 

So, our price it always suits— 

Don’t be afraid, ’fraid, ’fraid. 

Paper hangings will be “ pooled,” 

And you’ll certainly be fooled 
If by me you are not ruled 
To buy 'em now, now, now. 

Hardware stocks are getting small, 

Big advances sure ! this fall, 

Better “ take a few of all ” 

And save a row, row, row. 

Thus the trav’ler tried and true 
Gives the points to me and you, 

While he saves us not a few 
Dimes every year, # year, year; 

So, we greet him every trip 
With a warm and friendly grip 
And can scarcely see him skip 
Without a tear, tear, tear, 

Jno. H. Forey 


THE DRUMMER’S GRIP. 

Though the rain and sleet are falling, 

And the roads are “awful muddy, 
Though all men “hard times” are bawling 
Though a fellow’s nose gets ruddy, 
Though the rivers may be frozen, 

And the frosts may bite and nip, 

They can never stop the advent 
Of the drummer and his grip. 



82 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


Though the trains may all be smashing, 
And the horses all go lame, 

The drummer, like the bed-bug, 

Will get there, just the same. 

And when his time is over 

Will come smiling from his trip, 

For he always “ makes connections,” 
Does the drummer with his grip. 

Ah, he teaches us a lesson, 

With his energy and grit, 

Things that “paralyze” most people, 
Don’t astonish him a bit. 

And he’s ever bright and cheerful 
And a smile is on his lip. 

He's a daisy from away back. 

Is the drummer with his grip. 

Then give him a kind word always. 

He’ll give you back the same, 

For the doings of some “ black sheep” 
Don’t give the whole flock blame. 

For down, clear down to Hades 

Some so-called “ GOOD MEN ” slip, 
While along the road to Heaven 
Goes the drummer (with his grip). 


DOWN ON THE “ DRUMMER.” 

There is a decided and proper aversion upon the part 
of a great many commercial travelers to the term 
“drummer” when it is applied to them as a class. It 
is the judgment of these that no better reason exists 
why this epithet should be used in referring to their 



With Gripsack. 


83 

craft than for alluding to the minister of the gospel as a 
“sky-pilot” or “pulpit-pounder.” There was a day 
years ago when drummers went to and fro in the land ; 
when an incorrigible son or shiftless nephew, who, after 
repeated trials in the house, had proven himself utterly 
devoid of every element which entered into the make-up 
of a successful business man, was placed on the road as 
a “drummer ” upon the same general line of reasoning 
which induces the Russian government to urgently 
request a great number of her citizens to sample the 
climate of Siberia. When the custom of buying goods 
from salesmen began to prevail with the trade, it was 
deemed politic to fill these positions with the best talent 
obtainable, and since the war the contest for supremacy 
has hinged in a very great degree upon the quality of the 
representatives employed by the competing manufac¬ 
turers and jobbers. As a sequence, the happy, go-easy 
“drummer” of the past, the fellow who “painted the 
towns upon his route a deep crimson,” has been sup¬ 
planted by the earnest, energetic, painstaking and gen¬ 
tlemanly “ traveling salesman ” of the present ; and the 
lines of demarcation which separate the two are as far 
removed from each other, the contrast as marked, as 
between the “ sickle ” of the olden time and the self- 
binder of to-day. No class or profession is so com¬ 
pletely thrown upon its individual resources as this same 
traveling fraternity. The lawyer has his text-books for 
a guide, the minister his theological landmarks, the 
druggist his dispensatory, the physician his medical 
library, the chemist his laboratory ; but who ever saw a 
treatise upon the art of selling goods ? There are no 
fixed rules by which a traveling salesman may bring his 
endeavors to a successful issue, nor can he, when his 
persistent effort and tact have accomplished for him the 


8 4 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


desired result, secure an order from his next customer 
by the same formula ; and what is stranger still, the 
same tactics on a subsequent occasion will prove impo¬ 
tent where it was previously successful. 

The question then is : What are the peculiar qualities 
that go to make up an efficient traveling salesman ? We 
would answer : 

First—A thorough knowledge of human nature. 

Second—A personal appearance and demeanor that 
will attract to its possessor the populace, especially those 
with whom he attempts to transact business. 

Third—An ability that will win for it the confidence 
and respect of those with whom he comes in contact. 

Fourth—A strength of purpose to conscientiously and 
fairly treat the business confided to him, coupled with 
manhood enough to defend his rights should they be 
jeopardized either by the cupidity or lack of honesty of 
those with whom he deals. 

These qualities are necessary to the one who wins his 
right to the title “commercial traveler." They are the 
elements that enter into the composition of the highest 
type of manhood. The possession of them entitles their 
possessor to the same courtesy that like merit commands 
in other callings. In the name of that craft which has 
lifted itself from the realms of just criticism up onto the 
heights of commendable citizenship, we say that the day of 
the “ drummer,” like the “ Mohicans/’ has passed into 
oblivion. 

“Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, 

Is the immediate jewel of their souls ; 

Who steals my purse steals trash ; ’tis something, 
nothing ; 

'Twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to 
thousands! 


With Gripsack . 


85 


But he that filches from me my good name 
Robs me of that which not enriches him, 

And makes me poor indeed.” 

J. C. Fenimork 

—1- 4- 

A GOOD ONE ON A DRUMMER. 

They are telling down East a story respecting the 
recent high jinks kicked up by a drummer who regu¬ 
larly visits towns in Penobscot and Piscataquis counties. 
His complete discomfiture was affected in a most 
startling manner, and with disastrous consequences, 
says the Lewiston, Me., Journal. 

The drummer formed intimate acquaintance with a 
young woman in a country village not far from Bangor, 
and ’twas not long ere the neighbors commenced to 
talk about “ Sadie Dash’s beau,” and to predict a speedy 
marriage. The drummer represented himself as a single 
gentleman, possessed agreeable manners, and wholly 
won the love of the girl and the confidence of her 
parents. He frequently remained at Sadie’s home dur¬ 
ing Sunday, was yery attentive, and, according to the 
generally accepted belief, they were engaged. 

One day a telegram was brought to the drummer 
while he was at the house of his lady-love. He was 
tarrying in the town awaiting orders from “ the house.” 
The girl answered the ring of the messenger and re¬ 
entered the parlor holding aloft the dun-colored mis¬ 
sive. 

“ Do you really want it?” she queried, half-playfully. 
“ Perhaps it contains dreadful news.” 

“ Guess not, my dear. It’s just a line from the boss. 
Open it and tell me which way he wants me to go,” 



86 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties. 


yawned the drummer, as he leisurely folded his news¬ 
paper. 

The girl tore the envelope, drew forth and unfolded 
the message. As she run her eye over the written 
words the expression of her face brought the drummer 
to his feet. Before lie could speak she had uttered a 
stifled squeal and fled from the room, the crumpled paper 
falling upon the floor. Our drummer rescued the 
scraps, and here is what he read : 

Blankville, March 19, 1890. 

We have a ten-pound boy. Come home. 

Wife. 


THE HOUSE PAYS FOR IT. 

We had finished our lunch of eggs, biscuit, cold chicken 
and coffee at the lunch stand, and asked the man across 
the counter how much we owed the establishment, 
writes J. II. Fenimorein the National Commercial Traveler , 
and he answered by asking a question himself, and that 
was, “ Are you a railroad man ?” Of course we said 
no, when he meekly replied, “ Seventy-five cents.” 
“ Now, suppose we were a railroad man, how much 
would this same food have cost us ?” After glancing 
over the empty plates, he replied “ Forty cents.” The 
same day we were in a barbershop getting shaved and 
were handed a fifteen-cent check, when a man living in 
the same city and shaved at the same chair only paid 
ten cents. It was the writer’s privilege to overhear a 
conversation between two liverymen who had been con¬ 
sulted by a traveling man that day about taking him 
eight miles, when one said : “ Charge him $3.50, for he’s 
a traveling man and his house pays for it,” The man 



With Gripsack. 


87 


who wants to make the drive was posted, and another 
more enterprising and less mercenary man took him for 
two dollars. Now, in this connection we want to ask 
why are the traveling men discriminated against at every 
point ? Why do hotels charge him from twenty to fifty 
per cent, more than they do other people who eat as much 
or more ? Have the hotels, ’bus men, restaurant men, 
livery men, barbers and the public generally combined 
to rob the traveling salesmen and charge them more for 
the same accommodations than they do others—and then 
ease their consciences, if they have any, with the state¬ 
ment that his house is rich and pays the bills ? If so, it 
is unfair, mean and unjust, and deserves the condem¬ 
nation of all fair-minded people. 

If these same pirates who stand with one hand on 
the traveling man’s throat and the other in his pocket, 
would only stop to think and be fair, they would see 
that instead of taking it from his “rich house” they are 
taking it from the poor salesman, and they might be 
more lenient. We say they might be more lenient. 
Every salesman, no matter his line, has his salary based 
on the goods he sell, and the cost it is to sell them. 
Tobacco manufacturers count cost per pound, soap men 
cost per box, iron men cost per ton, starch men cost per 
pound, and many others on the net profit of the sales¬ 
man’s labor. If, for instance, a salesman had passes 
over every railway, for board at every hotel, and had no 
expense account at all, he would be a desirable man for 
any house, and they would pay him a larger salary than 
otherwise, because he would cost them nothing to 
travel. So on the same principle his house figures 
expenses, salary and net profit, and if his profits are 
light at the end of the year he gets no increase of salary, 
if indeed he retains his position. 


88 


O'cr Rail and Cross -Ties 


And you who have charged him in excess of others on 
the supposition that his house pays for it, are the cause 
of his discharge. As a class, we are willing to pay for 
what we get, but want what we pay for. We w'ant no 
farmers' rates at hotels, no theatrical rates on baggage, 
no passes on railways, but we want just the same as 
others pay for a like accommodation, and it’s only fair we 
should have it. Every man has his hand in the traveling 
man's pocket, and he gets no favors or special rates from 
anybody. His customer expects a dinner, theater, or 
good cigar, “ because the house pays for itthe waiter 
an extra quarter, “ because the house pays for it;” and to 
get along pleasantly with his friends and trade there are 
a hundred little expenses incurred, and the house don’t 
and won’t pay for it. We can’t cut down expenses if 
trade is dull, as railways, hotels and our houses do, for 
on we must go, hunting, begging, scheming for business, 
and at the final “round-up” our employers tell us our 
expenses are too great for the condition of trade, and we 
are laid off to further retrench their expenses. 

We make the statement here, and we can almost sub¬ 
stantiate it by dozens of men, that there is not one man in 
fifty who does not use a part of his salary for expenses 
of the house ; and this is partly at least due to the fact, 
as we before stated, every man wants a whack at the 
money which he thinks belongs to the house, when it 
really belongs to the salesman. Place us on an equal 
footing with other of your patrons and spare us the 
chilly, cheerless look of our employers at the end of the 
year. 


With Gripsack . 


89 


AN OLD TIMER’S FIRST TRIP—’WAY BACK IN 
THE FIFTIES. 

My first start out on the road was June 9th, 1857 ; not 
with a large lay-out of three or four trunks, as is now 
the usual outfit of the C. T., nor was I comfortably en¬ 
sconced in a Pullman, with its cushion-backed seats, 
foot-rests, hat-racks, wherein to deposit the inevitable 
stove-pipe, and don the silken scull cap convenient for 
snoozing in, but I found myself perched in a two-horse 
express wagon, tarpaulin covered, with a gaily painted 
dashboard, with a small hitching-post in the center of it 
to wrap the lines around when a halt was called. The 
whole turn-out looked like a Kansas schooner after a 
hard run of luck. 

The roads were neither graded nor graveled, nothing 
but the mother earth to run on, and humpy at that. 

As we started during the June rise, the rivers and 
creeks were up and overflowing, and mud on the track 
that could not be measured with a ten-foot pole. Our 
destination was Illinois, and, after a five o’clock break¬ 
fast, we were all ready to strike out into the land, or 
rather mud. Our route (now pronounced root) was over 
the old National road, running from St. Louis, Mo., to 
Washington, D. C., which in some sections was then 
good at any season of the year, but the portion over 
which we had to pull was through a clay country, not 
Kentucky clay, although it would stick closer to you 
than a brother through thick and thin. No stone or 
gravel to make travel decent could be found in that por¬ 
tion, or any timber to bridge over the holes, nothing but 
mud up to the hubs, but in spite of all these draw¬ 
backs, our horses like ourselves were in good spirits, and 


9 o 


O’er Rail and Cross-Ties 


we felt sure of selling our first customer, Mr. S., a good 
bill of our goods, which consisted of what was called 
“ Yankee notions not the fine display our “boys” now 
carry, but principally buttons, combs, threads, pins, 
needles, braid, hose and half hose, cotton handkerchiefs 
and “sich.” 

Oh, yes ! our first bill must be a good one, to let the 
old boss see that we could sell goods if he only gave us 
the chance. 

Five miles from our starting point, just at eleven 
o’clock (remember we pulled out at five), the first crack 
was ’way into a little prairie slough up to the hubs, with 
both horses almost out of sight. Overboard we went, 
and soon had enough real estate on our person to cut up 
into town lots. After getting the horses free from our 
vehicles (for it was impossible to budge that ark-like 
structure) we mounted the “ nigh hoss,” and, leading 
the off one, for there was not a fence, post, tree or stake 
to make use of as a hitching post within sight, we rode 
off to procure help to pull our goods and chattels out of 
the “soup,” and, after a short trot of two hours, halted 
at a log house with the usual barn attachments, when 
old farmer Warner, who was the lord, at that time, of 
all he surveyed, I mean of course the land, salutes us 
with : “ Hello, stranger ; git right off your hoss and 
come into the house before you say what you want, as I 
know by the looks of you that you are hungry, if not 
dry. Come right in, and I will send Charles out to 
feed your horses.” I was not long in putting myself 
outside of the best meal I ever ate in my life ; you 
may laugh, but it is true. Our dinner consisted of corn 
bread, bacon, sweet milk. and apple butter. I have 
eaten at the best restaurants in the United States since 
then, but I must say I never ate any meal that I rel- 


With Gripsack . 9 i 

ished more than the meal I took with old farmer 
Warner. 

In the meantime I had told him of my misfortune. 
“All right,” says he, “just leave your horses in the 
barn, and I will take my oxen and go down and pull 
your wagon up here,” and off he started with three yoke 
of oxen, and, after working for two hours, we returned 
to the house, a home-made single-tree taking the place 
of the one broken. “ Mr. Warner,” said I, “ how much 
do I owe you for all your trouble?” “Well, I guess 
twenty-five cents won’t be too much for dinner and horse 
feed, will it? I won’t charge you anything for what 
little help I have been to you.” God has found a good 
resting' place for him I am sure. At dark I found 
myself at a little tavern eight miles from where I started 
at fivelo’clock in the morning. Horses were put in the 
log stable and well fed. In those days the landlords 
were honest, and we had no occasion to watch our 
horses while eating for fear the feed would be taken 
away from them.— Com. Traveler. 


CHRIST, CHURCH & CO. 

One day, when Bishop-, who does not wear cler¬ 

ical raiment, but has somewhat of the appearance of an 
active business man, was in the cars on one of his mis¬ 
sionary journeys, a commercial traveler, espying the 
bishop’s gripsack and mistaking him for a fellow “ drum¬ 
mer,” sat down beside him and opened conversation as 
follows : 

“ Good morning ! You are a traveling man, I guess ? ” 

“Yes,” said the bishop, who likes a quiet joke, “ I am 
on the road a good deal.” 




92 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


“ So am I. What’s your line of goods ?” 

“ Souls,” replied the bishop. 

“ Soles ?” said the drummer. “ Oh, boots and shoes, you 
mean. I carry gent’s furnishing goods.” 

“ I do something in that line, too, in the higher grades 
of goods. Have you been on the road long?” 

“About a year,” said the young man. “I travel for 
Loud and Noise, of Chicago. Which house do you rep¬ 
resent ?” 

“ Christ, Church & Co. A fine firm it is, too ; I am 
proud of them.” 

“ H’m, don’t know as I ever heard of them. Is it a new 
firm ? ” 

“No, a very old one. I have been with them twenty 
years myself, and we have branch houses all over the 
world.” 

“ So ? It’s queer I never heard of them ! How’s trade 
with you now? Getting many orders? I find things 
rather dull. Competition is so sharp in our line that a 
fellow has to hump round lively to get any business at 
all.” 

“ Indeed,” said the bishop. “ I am sorry for you. We 
have some rivals, but our firm is so strong that we don’t 
mind competition. The chief trouble we have is with an 
enemy who is always on the watch to spoil our goods and 
injure our customers. But we are sure to get him locked 
up some day, and we are obtaining new orders con¬ 
stantly.” 

“You’re lucky there. Is your house good pay?” 

“Yes, excellent. I can draw on the firm for compen¬ 
sation whenever I please, and my drafts are full paid at 
sight, no discount. Then I frequently start a new branch 
of the house in some town, and always get something 
extra for that.” 


93 


With Gripsack. 

“By Jove,” said the drummer, “that’s a good hold. 
Say, does your house want any new men ? I’d like to 
travel for such a firm.” 

“Yes,” replied the bishop, “our house is always on 
the lookout for good men, especially for the West and 
for foreign countries. We have branches in China, Japan, 
Africa, and all over the world, but the firm is particular 
about its men and will not employ any but Christians.” 

“ That's a queer notion ; but I don’t blame them. Jews 
are a mean lot for traveling men. Say, I believe I’ll 
write to Loud and Noise that I am going to quit them 
and go with another firm. What do you say the name 
of your house is ? ” 

“ Christ, Church & Co.” 

“Where is their main office ?” 

“ In Jerusalem,” answered the bishop. 

“In Jerusalem ! I thought you said they were Chris¬ 
tians. I don’t fancy those foreign Jews.” 

“ So they are Christians ; but the Head of our firm lives 
in the New Jerusalem now. All the employes have been 
invited to meet him there and have a great supper. He 
will bear all expenses of our journey thither. I would 
like to have you work for the firm, too, if you are a Chris¬ 
tian ; or if not, we’ll try to make you one before the time 
for the great supper comes.” 

“I don’t know about turning Christian,” said the 
young man, “ though I would like to go with you to the 
great supper; but I say,” he continued, catching the 
bishop’s eye, “ what are you giving us? You’re fooling, 
aren’t you ?” 

“ No, I am perfectly serious. I would like to have you 
turn Christian and work for Christ and the Church.” 

“ Oh ! I catch on now ! You’re one of these travel- 


94 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


ing parsons. Well, you’re a sharp one, any way,” and 
he looked away and began to whistle softly. 

“ Well,” said the bishop, “ here is the town where I 
stop.” 

“ It’s my town, too,” said the drummer, “and I’d like 
to go and see your branch house, as you call it. I would 
not mind turning Christian and working for your house 
if all the parsons were as sharp as you ; but those I meet 
are such awful milksops and duffers.” 

“ Come on, then,” replied the bishop, “ we like to get 
hold of wide-awake fellows like you. If you only knew 
what a glorious thing it is to work for Christ and His 
Church, I am sure you would join our company and go 
with us to the great supper when our traveling days are 
done .”—Standard of the Cross and the Church. 


With Gripsack . 


95 


CHAPTER III. 

THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER. 

The traveler commercial,—the theme of my song, 
Of “cheek” beyond compare, of marvelous tongue, 
A dealer in everything just to your mind, 

With copious talk (he is a sort of trade wind), 

With bagful of samples, with citified airs, 

(The envy of bumpkins, the idol of fairs), 

Doth wander to northward, to south, east and west, 
Attending to trade or to love with like zest. 

At home everywhere, with whomever he meets, 

He talks metaphysics or talk of the streets ; 

Runs glibly on nothing so sweet and so nice, 

To maidenly beauty, and then in a trice 
To matron is speaking of root, herbs and hops, 

Or farmer, of cattle, of pigs or of crops. 

He lives like the troglodyte, not in his cell, 

But rather in selling, which serves him as well. 

“To sell,” is his motto, chief tenet of creed, 

His faith, his religion, his war-cry and screed. 
Whatever his “line,” be it ruffles and lace, 

Or trimmings for dresses, or paint for the face, 

Or gloves for the fingers, beads, buttons or rings,— 
In short, any one of the numberless things 
Invented since Adam and dear Mother Eve, 
Unconscious of bodice, skirt, hosiery, sleeve, 

Of coat, trousers and vest, of tailor-bills big, 
Contented themselves with the leaf of the fig, 


9 6 


O'er Rail a7id Cross-Ties 


You’ll find to that line he’s aye loyal and true. 
Though while selling goods, he “ sells ” customer, too. 
As sparks radiate from the knife-grinder’s wheel 
When stone feels the pressure of glittering steel, 

He’s thrown from the Hub by centrifugal force,— 

I mean the Bostonian genus, of course ;— 

And where he has wandered, his pathway you’ll find 
O’ergrowing with graces by him left behind. 

His goods and good manners, virtues and virtue, 
Adorn every village by him traveled through ; 

His name in the guest-book of every hotel, 

His “ photo ” in album of each rustic belle ; 

And strangest of all things—I can’t tell you how; 
’Twixt cause and effect no connection may show— 

But e’en in the little ones, here and there met, 

His features are most unmistakably set. 

A person so potent, a calling so quaint, 

By equity’s right should have high patron saint. 
Though saint after saint I’ve called to my mind. 

Not one unappropriated saint can I find. 

But stay ! Why not take the first trafficker, he 
Who sold fruit by sample from Paradise tree? 

Of travelers commercial the great prototype, 

To raise him to saintship the time now is ripe. 

See Job, chapter one, if you doubt what I say, 

And all of your doubts will at once fade away. 

You’ll find the same personage mentioned there, too, 
In words that quite clearly connect him with you. 

If not saint himself, in their meeting he’s found, 

Just returned from his travels and wanderings round. 
Then hail to the traveler commercial, all hail ! 

May fortune aye smile, may he ne’er miss a sale, 

May dealers buy largely, may ladies prove kind, 

At all times may all things be just to his mind. 


With Gripsack. 


97 


His life on this sphere, may its record be of sucli 
That when on the mystical shore he shall touch 
That stretches beyond the tempestuous Styx, 

His patron shall greet him with gleeful antics, 

With warmest of welcomes, with loving embrace, 
And hurry him home to his own dwelling place ; 
Where, safe from life's numberless vicissitudes, 
Unvexed by prices, by samples, by goods, 

Affairs of the pocket, affairs of the heart, 

Together they’ll stay, nevermore shall they part. 

Boston Transcript. 


A NOTED DRUMMER. 

Bishop Potter, of New York, in a recent speech, said 
that his early experience in selling dry goods was of 
great benefit to him in preaching the gospel. In the 
store of a large New York dry goods jobber he learned a 
good deal about human nature which is not usually 
taught in the schools of divinity. A young man who 
has never been in a New York jobbing house and is 
innocent of the ways of a business sinner, may be popu¬ 
lar with the young ladies of his parish, but his words 
have no more effect on the masculine members of his 
flock than the dews of heaven on a brickyard. 


PROSPECTS PORTRAYED. 

The holidays find many of us with our grips piled up 
in the corner and our cheek stacked upon the grips, 
both waiting to be handed out for use after the first of 
the new year, and our wives will look over the linen, 




9 8 


O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


darn our socks and brush the dust from the greasy col¬ 
lars of our coats while the shoemaker puts new heel¬ 
taps and soles on our shoes, and the tailor patches our 
pants that with the new year we may again go out to 
do battle for our country and our country’s cause. It 
has been a year full of trouble, struggle for trade and 
struggle with early hours and sandwiches. Some of us 
have had a very satisfactory trade, both to ourselves 
and employers, and will go in and have our engage¬ 
ments renewed and our salaries raised, while with others 
we will go slipping in at the back door and watch 
through the keyhole to see when the boss is likely to be 
in the best humor, and thankful if we even get to hold 
our jobs at the present low salary and dally with our 
expense account. Then again, there are some who will 
be taken into partnership and have a nice desk and 
easy chair for the next year, and, better than all, the 
society of our families and friends, and some again who 
will get the grand bounce for some reason or other, and 
who will go out and eat snow-balls with the sparrows. 
After all our troubles, boys, we have a bright side to 
our lives, and at least are not annoyed with troubles 
that annoy others. For instance, not one of us up to 
date has been implicated in the ballot-box forgery and 
had to make explanations, none of us have been accused 
of killing Dr. Cronin, nor none of us are particularly 
worried because Silcott skipped to Canada. We own 
no electric-light wires that must go underground, no 
coal mines or workshops that are likely to close down, 
and last, but not least, none of us are candidates for 
the position of United States senator, 


With Gripsack . 


99 


TEACHING A SMART DRUMMER THE GOOD 
OLD ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 

As a newly engaged commercial traveler was about 
starting on a commercial trip from his place in Chicago, 
the other day, he suddenly turned to the employer, a 
brave old merchant, and enquired : “ I say, boss, what 
shall I do when I get out of soap ?” 

“ Soap ?” said the old man, “ why save your samples 
and you won’t get out.” 

“ But I mean what shall I do when I get out of 
grease,” continued the young man. 

“Grease? grease?” pondered the old man, “why you 
don’t need any grease—you are not working for a lubri¬ 
cating estab-” 

“Oh, but you don’t understand me,” chimed in the 
youthful employe, rather embarrassed. “I mean what 
shall I do if I run out of spondulix—stamps—wealth.” 

“Spondulix? stamps? wealth ?” echoed the mystified 
merchant, looking at the young fellow over his glasses, 
to see if he had gone crazy. 

“Yes, currency—greenbacks,” exclaimed the drum¬ 
mer, “cash money, you know !” 

A light seemed to dawn on the old gentleman’s mind 
at the moment, for gazing upon the creature before him 
with a look of contempt and pity, he broke forth : “Young 
man, what are you giving us ? I rather guess you 
needn’t go out, for I don’t believe your class of custom¬ 
ers could get along very well with you—they all speak 
English. Pull down your vest, step up to the cashier’s 
desk and get your sugar. Now cheese it, cully, you’re 
bounced,” 



IOO 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


And that is the way the high-toned kid got bounced 
—all through the pernicious habit for slinging slang.— 
Cincinnati Enquirer. 


REFORM BADLY NEEDED. 

The attention of the writer has been often called to 
certain hotels in this State—within a radius of a hundred 
miles of Syracuse—whose invariable terms to the com¬ 
mercial travelers are two-fifty, while to county people 
their terms are only two dollars per day. Now, this is 
an act of gross injustice to a class of men who usually do 
and certainly should receive all benefits derived from 
reduced rates. The attention of the writer was called, 
only a few days since, while stopping at one of the above 
mentioned hotels, to the following circumstances : 

A county man and a commercial man each stepped to 
the office to pay for a dinner. The clerk accepted fifty 
cents from the former, and—with a smile so child-like, 
etc.—charged the latter seventy-five cents. Remonstrat¬ 
ing with the clerk for this irregular procedure, I was 
coolly informed that there was no other way of securing 
the trade of the people of the county. I was impressed, 
from his manner, with the idea that the commercial 
trade was a matter of secondary importance. 

Reform is the word of the day, and it lies in the power 
of the commercial men to reform all such abuses by act¬ 
ing in a body and refusing to patronize these hotels 
until they are willing to suppress this injustice and offer 
us terms on the basis of justice to all. Reform, 

Syracuse (N. Y.) Commercial Traveler . 



With Gripsack. 


101 


A COMEDY IN A SLEEPING CAR. 

Mr and Mrs. IVhiffin were on their way to the Hot 
Springs where he intended to get relief from his rheum¬ 
atism in the baths. At a way station a drunken traveling 
man boarded the train and was put to bed in the berth 
next to Mr. and Mrs. W. by the porter. Shortly after, Mr. 
W. woke up with a dreadful stitch in his side. Like a 
good, dutiful wife, Mrs. W. arose and went to the lavatory 
to make a strong, extra strong, mustard plaster with 
which to relieve the pain of her liege lord. 

On her return she pulled the wrong curtain aside and 
placed the plaster upon the stomach of the senseless, 
drunken drummer. Then she went to the lavatory, 
washed her hands, and returned to her berth, getting 
into the right section, and finding Mr. W. asleep. 

Finally a loud groan was heard, then these words : 
“ Oh, my stomach, my s-t-o-m-a-c-h, oh-h-h !” This was 
followed by “ I’ll never touch another drop as long as I 
live. Oh, its burning a hole in me, oh-h-h !” 

By this time heads were peeping out from behind 
curtains, and the porter was on his way to the traveling 
man’s berth. Of a sudden out came the bed clothes 
from the T. M.’s berth, and a cry of “ Oh, my, there is 
my stomach ! I’m dead !” The exclamation was topped 
off by the mustard plaster being thrown out on the aisle 
of the car. The porter then grabbed the drummer and 
shook him until awake. During the first stages of 
sensibility he muttered : “ Oh, my stomach is gone, 

gone !”— St. Paul Pioneer Press . 


102 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


HE WAS INSURED. 

The sun had just set ’neath the hills in the west, 

And their shadows were creeping along o’er the earth, 
While nature seemed then to be sinking to rest 
And the darkness of night was expounding its worth. 
Away from his home and from those he loved dear 
A traveling man stood at the station one night ; 

When the cry “ all aboard ” soon greeted his ear, 

And he heard the shrill whistle and then saw the light 
Of the iron horse coming away down the track, 

And his heart beat for joy, for he soon would be back 
To the loved ones who waited for papa to come. 

The iron horse halted, and with snort and with puff, 
Panted as if she were short of her breath ; 

“ All aboard,” came again, and a puff and a snort 
Announced the iron horse ready to start. 

She moved, and the traveling man, soon in repose, 

Was dreaming those dreams that so soon were to close 
He dreamed of his home and the loved ones so dear, 

Of his child’s tender kiss, and his wife’s joyful tear ; 
But alas for his hopes, for his joy, for his dreams, 

There is little in life that is quite as it seems ; 

For down yonder track there was some one who blun¬ 
dered, 

And the train sped along, but as yet no one wondered 
If aught was but safe or if aught was but well, 

She was flying along, but to where, who could tell ? 
For ahead in the darkness a glimmer of light 
Shone forth on the track on that terrible night. 

Was it light from some cottage, or what could it mean ? 
For the iron horse driver before had ne’er seen 


With Gripsack. 103 

A light on the track where this one then was, 

And his nerves seemed to quiver, his brain seemed to 
pause, 

For along with that light came the message of death, 
And his heart seemed to stop and he gasped for a breath. 
“ My God ! boy !” he cried “ ’tis a train ! jump or die,” 
But the fireman, dazed, did not even reply. 

Nearer the light came, and nearer and near, 

But the traveling man sleeping knew nothing to fear, 

He still was a dreaming of love and of Lome, 

And the little ones waiting for papa to come. 

But for only a moment ; he woke with a start, 

And the blood from his veins seemed to fly from his 
heart, 

And it stopped ! then a thunder, a crash, 

A volume of steam, a groan and a flash 
Of hell’s lurid light, then all was but dark, 

The iron horse lay but a wreck on the track. 

There was little the loved ones had then to console, 

For the husband and father so taken away, 

So far as love went, but his name on the roll 
Stood sure for Five thousand in the good C. T. A. 

- ♦ - 

MISTAKEN IDENTITY. 

If the trunk manufacturers do not quit making so 
many thousand valises exactly alike, somebody is going 
to get into some awful trouble about it sometime, and 
some trunk maker will be sued for damages enough to 
build a court house. 

The other day an omnibus full of passengers drove up 
town from the Union depot. Side by side sat a com¬ 
mercial traveler named William Maccaby, and Mrs. 



104 O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 

Winnie C. Dumbleton, the eminent lady temperance 
lecturer. When the omnibus reached the Barrett House 
the commercial traveler seized his valise and started 
out. The lady made a grab after him and he halted, 

“ I beg your pardon,” she said, “ but you have my 
valise.” 

“You are certainly mistaken, madame,” the traveler 
said, courteously, but firmly, “ this is mine.” 

“No, sir,” the lady replied, firmly, “it is mine. I 
would know it among a thousand. You must not take 
it.” 

But the traveler persisted and the lady insisted, and 
they came very near quarreling. Presently one of the 
passengers pointed to a twin valise in the omnibus and 
asked : 

“ Whose is that ?” 

“It isn’t mine,” said the traveler; “ it is just like it, 
but this is mine.” 

“ And it isn’t mine,” said the lady ; “he has mine, 
and I’ll have it or I’ll have the law on him. It’s a pity 
if a lady can’t travel alone in this country without being 
robbed of her property in broad daylight.” 

Finally the traveler said he would open the valise to 
prove his claim. The lady objected at first, saying she 
did not want her valise opened in the presence of a 
crowd of strangers. But as there was no other way of 
settling the dispute, she at length consented. The 
traveler sprung the lock, opened the valise, and the 
curious crowd bent forward to see. 

On the very top of everything lay a big flat flask, half 
full of whiskey, a deck of cards, and one or two things 
that nobody knows the name of. 

The traveler was first to recover his self-possession and 
speech. 


With Gripsack. 105 

‘‘ Madame,” he said, “ you are right; the valise is 
jfours. I owe you a thousand apolo—” 

But the lady had fainted, and the traveler relocked his 
valise with a quiet smile. Early in the afternoon a sign 
painter down town received a note in a feminine hand, 
asking him to come*to the Barrett House to mark a red 
leather valise in black letters a foot and a half long.— 
Burlington Hawkeye. 


IT WAS TEA. 

A short time ago a knight of the grip well known to 
the traveling fraternity, entered a dining car to appease 
the wrath of an empty stomach on a square meal. The 
car being well filled, the only available space was at a 
table partially occupied by an okl lady (one of the in¬ 
quisitive kind, of course) with a ponderous pair of spec¬ 
tacles saddled across her nasal appendage. 

Our gallant knight took a seat opposite and soon made 
known to the waiter the few articles on the bill of fare 
he did not want, but among the things he did want was 
a glass of iced tea with a piece of lemon. The viands were 
soon forthcoming, and the iced tea, being of the extra 
dark kind, attracted the attention of the old lady, and as 
our hero squeezed the lemon into the tea she could stand 
it no longer, and so she drew a bead on the glass with 
her globe sight, sallied out— 

“Young man, do you drink?” 

With due reverence for his aged companion and with 
all the respect at his command he answered, “ Sometimes.” 

“Stranger,” continued the old lady, raising her voice 
to the key of Z, which amused the occupants of the car, 
who saw the embarrassment of the vendor of Wescott 



io6 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

calf and sole leather counters, “do you know what you 
are doing? I have seen the evil effect of drinking and 
hate it; yes, I had a brother who died a drunkard.” 

“Yes, but madam,” retorted the crest-fallen brave, 
“ this is iced tea,” and ere the words had fairly vibrated 
on the old lady’s audiphon she made a lunge across the 
table, and in an instant had the imagined bug juice in dose 
proximity to her smelling apparatus, and with a look of 
disgust screamed out “ 'tis tea,” which brought down the 
car, and the old lady stalked out with an air of satisfac¬ 
tion that she had, at least, performed her Christian duty. 


A TRAVELER’S BY-WORD. 

A traveler once, with thoughtful mind 
Tried to invent another kind 
Of phrase, a substitute to be 
For this : “ There are no flies on me.” 

At last he found the words he sought, 
And straightway sent this happy thought 
Throughout the country far and near : 
“There are no insects basking here.” 

When haughty landlords sought to give 
Him fare on which he scarce could live, 
He’d wink, and say, with knowing leer : 
“There are no insects basking here.” 

When other travelers tried to get 
The trade on which his heart was set, 
He’d murmur soft: “ I have no fear ; 
There are no insects basking here.” 



With Gripsack. 


107 


But when upon the tavern bed 
He sought to rest his weary head, 

He held his tongue and shed a tear,— 

The words lost all their meaning here. 

—Hotel Man's Guide. 


THE SORT OF A HOUSE HE REPRESENTED. 

A Philadelphia drummer saw a man on a railroad car 
whom he thought he knew, and slapping him on the back, 
asked him how he was. The man looked up, and the 
drummer saw that he was a stranger. He apologized, 
saying he thought that he was a friend of his. What 
followed is best told by a Jersey newspaper : “ ‘ I hope I 
am a friend of yours,' the man said, and they got to 
talking, and the commercial man, seeing the gentleman’s 
gripsack, thought he must be a commercial man also, 
and asked him what house he represented. ‘ I represent,’ 
said the gentleman, ‘ the largest house in the world.' 
‘Well,’ said the traveling man, ‘if you represent the 
largest house in the world, you certainly have a snap. 
What house is it?’ ‘The Lord’s house,’ said the gentle¬ 
man ; ‘my name is John Scarborough, Bishop of the 
Protestant Episcopal Church.’ ” 


DRUMMER AND ARCHBISHOP. 

Coming from Philadelphia on the Chicago limited, I 
noticed in an opposite section two men who, from their 
garb, I judged to be Catholic priests. They wore silk 
traveling caps, which made them appear like mediaeval 
monks. One was aged, gray hair curling from beneath 




108 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

his head covering. His companion, who appeared much 
younger, was spare of form and wore gold-rimmed spec¬ 
tacles. His face was one which commanded instant at¬ 
tention by its benignity, and when he smiled, which he 
did frequently, it became absolutely lovable. 1 never 
saw a more inviting smile upon a man’s face. Traveling 
was tedious, and a Brooklyn drummer returning from 
the West, having talked all the other passengers to 
sleep, sauntered along the car aisle, and, seating himself 
beside the young ecclesiastic, said in an easily familiar 
way, “Clergyman, I suppose?” The younger priest 
assented with one of those rare smiles which had so 
captured me. Then the drummer began. He once 
knew a Catholic priest who was “a mighty jolly sort of 
fellow,” and with this as a premise he began a loud- 
voiced statement of his theological views, proudly pro¬ 
claiming himself an agnostic. He talked for an hour. 
The man beside him never gave a sign of impatience, 
that lovable smile never deserted him, and once in a 
while he interjected a smiling remark, but in a voice so 
exquisitely modulated that it only crossed the aisle as a 
faint whisper. The drummer was evidently well pleased 
with himself and with his agreeable companion. Finally 
he said—I could not help hearing him—“ I would like 
to come across you again. Where do you have your 
church ? Who are you with ?” 

Before the young ecclesiastic could reply, his elder 
companion, who all this time has uttered not a word, 
broke in brusquely, saying, “This is the Archbishop.” 

“Who ?” exclaimed the drummer. 

“Archbishop Corrigan, of New York,” said the elder 
cleric, who then abruptly jumped up and walked to the 
other end of the car, as though very tired of something. 
The drummer blushed—yes, he actually blushed. The 


With Gripsack. 


109 


Archbishop put one hand on his shoulder, and, still with 
that winning smile, he began talking to the man to 
whom he had listened with so much patience. He 
talked not as the proselyter, but as a brother, not as a 
lecturer, but as a friend. And the drummer listened, 
and not another word did he say about agnosticism. 
And when we reached Jersey City he took off his hat to 
the most popular minister in all New York and pressed 
his outstretched hand with reverence. 

I rather liked the drummer for blushing.— Correspond¬ 
ent Philadelphia Times. 


ON THE ROAD TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO. 

There have been, many changes in the methods of 
doing business during the last twenty-five years, and 
these have had their effect on the boys who go out on 
the road. A Chicago traveling man, referring to the 
time when he first began in July, 1863, says that in those 
days nobody ever thought of carrying twelve pounds of 
samples. “ Practically," he continued, “ we carried no , 
samples at all. We would go to a customer and talk 
business over with him, and he would tell us how much 
he wanted, and at what price. Then, too, in those 
times we only made two trips in the year. Nowadays 
competition has changed all of that. Instead of twice a 
year, the purchaser must now be visited twice a month. 
The explanation of all this is that the retail dealer has 
been forced by competition to learn how to buy and sell 
more cheaply. Salaries all around are much more than 
twice as good now as they were then. But you must 
remember that in the ’6o’s we were all working in the 
dark ; nobody knew what he ought to pay or what he 



I IO 


O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


was earning. Now, with our elaborate system of reports 
and records, we know to the fraction of a cent just how 
much profit has been made upon each bill of goods, and 
just how much the salesman has earned in selling them. 
Salaries are adjusted for each year upon the basis of a 
man's previous proved value to us. Until after a man 
has established the fact that he can sell goods there is 
nobody who can tell, no matter how much he knows 
about him, whether he is going to be a success or a fail¬ 
ure. It all depends on the man—on his tact—on his 
ability to sell goods, in a word. I believe that the work 
on the road leads to the highest rewards in business.”— 
Hatter and Furrier. 


GOOD-BYE, OLD GRIP. 

Good-bye, old grip ! 

On many a trip 

We have braved the world together, 
With grinding wear and lashing whip 
And snubs of men and sales that slip, 
Through storm and sunny weather, 

And on my face 
They leave their trace, 

As on your battered leather. 

For years, old grip, 

On train and ship, 

In every clime and season 

I still have swung you at my hip, 

In hustling hours, with jibe or quip. 
Or words of business reason, 

And to the end 
You are my friend 
With not a thought of treason. 



With Gripsack. 


111 


You know, old grip, 

That many a tip 
For you has been demanded, 

And sometimes I have had to skip 
When I had neither coin or scrip, 
Though starting out full-handed, 

Yet you and I 
Would not say die, 

However we were stranded. 

Ah me, old grip ! 

Companionship 
Is strong as love to bind us, 

And something starts from every rip 
To make me smile with trembling lip. 
Good people, do not mind us— 

We never know 
How dear they grow 
Till friends are left behind us ! 

Then shake, old grip ! 

To you I sip 

A parting toast full tender : 

Yet while regretful tears will drip, 

In deeper love my heart I dip, 

To home my homage render, 

For home excels 
The best hotels 
Or palace cars in splendor ! 

Good-bye, old grip ! 

And so I clip 
And lock you up forever { 


1X2 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

For absent hearts their faith outstrip, 

And sundered hands will lose their grip 
In spite of all endeavor— 

To love and wife 
I give my life, 

No more from them to sever! 

R. L. D. 

-»- 

TRAVELER’S STORIES. 

“ Safest town in New England is this town,” remarked 
a drummer the other day, as the Boston train rolled into 
the gloomy depot at Salem, Mass. “Landlord takes no 
end of trouble to* save you from being burned up. No¬ 
tice posted right upon the wall.” Reaching a room in 
the hotel a few minutes later, the drummer pointed to 
this : 

“NOTICE,” 

“ In case of fire the means of escape from this room is 
to turn to the right. 

“At the southern end of this passageway there is a 
fire escape with egress through a window. 

“At the north end of this passage there is an egress 
through a window and down over a roof in the rear. 

“ There will be red lights burning through the night 
at the main stairway. After going down one flight, turn 
to the left and keep to the left. (The next stairway is 
under the above.) 

“ Otherwise turn to the right through the passageway 
and keep to the right and down the other stairs. 

“ A watchman will be on duty through the night, and 
in case of fire will sound the gong.” 



With Gripsack . 


”3 

“ There, how’s that ?” exclaimed the drummer. “ Now 
look here.” He threw open a window. It was just eight 
feet to the sidewalk .—Hartford Times. 


THOSE BOLD, BAD DRUMMERS. 

About seventy-five traveling men were snowed in at 
Green Bay during a blockade last winter, and they were 
pretty lively around the hotel, having quiet fun Friday 
and Saturday, and passing away the time the best they 
could, some playing seven-up, others playing billiards, 
and others looking on. Some of the truly good people 
in town thought the boys were pretty tough, and they 
wore long faces and prayed for the blockade to raise so 
the spruce looking chaps could go away. The boys 
noticed that occasionally a lantern-jawed fellow would 
look piously at them, as though afraid he would be con¬ 
taminated, so Sunday morning they decided to go to 
church in a body. Seventy-five of them slicked up and 
marched to Rev. Dr. Morgan’s church, where the 
reverend gentleman was going to deliver a sermon on 
temperance. No minister ever had a more attentive 
audience, ora more intelligent one, and when the collec¬ 
tion plate was passed every last one of the travelers 
chipped in a silver dollar. When the sexton had 
received the first ten dollars the perspiration stood out. 
on his head as though he had been caught in something. 
It was getting heavy, something that never occurred 
before in the history of the church collections at the Bay. 
As he passed by the boys, and dollar after dollar was 
added to his burden, he felt like he was at a pic-nic, and 
when twenty-five dollars had accumulated on the plate 
he had to hold it out with both hands, and finally the 



O'er Rail and Cross -Ties. 


114 

plate was full, and he had to go and empty it on the 
table in front of the pulpit, though he was careful to 
remember where he had left off, so he wouldn’t go twice 
to the same drummer. As he poured the shekels out on 
the table, as still as he could, every person in the 
audience, almost, raised up to look at the pile, and there 
was a smile on every face, and every eye was turned to the 
part of the church where sat the seventy-five solemn look¬ 
ing traveling men, who never wore a smile. The sexton 
looked up to the minister, who was picking out a hymn, 
as much as to say, “ Boss, we have struck it rich, and I am 
going back to work the lead some more.” The minister 
looked at the boys, and then at the sexton, as though 
saying, “Verily, I say unto you, I would rather preach 
to seventy-five Milwaukee and Chicago drummers than 
to own a brewery. Go, thou, and reap some more trade 
dollars in my vineyard !” The sexton went back and 
commenced where he left off. He had misgivings, 
thinking maybe some of the boys would glide out in his 
absence, or think better of the affair and only put in 
nickels on the second heat, but the first man the sexton 
held out the platter to planked down his dollar, and all 
the boys followed suit, not a man “ passed ” or 
“ renigged ” and when the last drummer had been 
interviewed the sexton carried the biggest load of silver 
back to the table that he ever saw. Some of the dollars 
rolled off on the floor, and he had to put some in his coat 
pockets, but he got them all, and looked around at the 
congregation with a smile, and wiped the perspiration 
off his forehead with a bandanna handkerchief, and 
winked, as much as to say, “The first man that speaks 
disrespectful of a traveling man in my presence will get 
thumped ; and don’t you forget it.” The minister rose 
up in the pulpit, looked at the wealth on the table, and 


With Gripsack. 


ns 

read the hymn, “A charge to keep I have,” and the 
whole congregation joined, the travelers swelling the 
glad anthem as though they belonged to a Pinafore 
chorus. Then all bowed their heads, while the minister, 
with one eye on the dollars, pronounced the benediction, 
and the services were over. The traveling men filed 
out through the smiles of the ladies, and went to the 
hotel, while half the congregation went forward to the 
anxious seat “ to view the remains.” It is safe to say 
* that it will be unsafe, in the future, for any person to 
speak disparagingly of traveling men in Green Bay, as 
long as the memory of that blockade Sunday remains 
green with the good people there.— Peck's Sun. 


DOCTRINE OF DISCOMFORT. 

Did you ever notice—of course you have—the atten¬ 
tion paid to the art of making hotel rooms systematically 
unhomelike and uncomfortable? I have been observing 
it for thirteen years. I suppose the object is to keep the 
guest out of his room as much as possible, so that he 
won’t use the furniture, the soap and towels, the gas or 
the lamp. In the average country hotel—by that I mean a 
hotel in a town of 5,000 or less—a guest has to keep up 
a constant struggle in order to occupy his room at all. 
While he is at breakfast a girl comes in, takes away all 
the linen and tosses the bed up into a volcanic bit of chaos, 
throws the pillows on the lounge or sofa, if there be one, 
hangs the bolster on the lone chair or table, and takes 
away all the towels. There is but one ; I use the word 
“all” out of courtesy. The idea that anybody washes 
his hands or face at any time during the day, save im¬ 
mediately after rising, seems never to occur to some land- 



O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


116 

lords. Unless you raise a row about it, after the towels 
(those towel) are (is) taken away during breakfast hour, 
no more are (is) brought in until after supper. Of course 
)^ou never use the soap in a cheap hotel, so the fact of its 
presence or absence does not worry you, unless you 
should want something to sharpen your pen-knife on, and 
then a cake of cheap hotel soap rises to the situation. It 
beats an oil stone all to pieces. And in a hotel of what 
you may call the third, and often of the second class, it 
is a part of the landlord’s creed that no living man ever, 
ever wants to write a letter in his own room. A table is 
not part of the furniture. When it is it is either a good 
saddler with a gentle canter, or a “single footer” with a 
gait like a Kentucky “ sand sifter,” and you have to hold 
it with your knees when you try to write. I have quit 
using them. I take out a bureau drawer, turn it upside 
down, push it back in place about two inches, and defy¬ 
ing the landlord, have a table it would break his heart to 
see. 

But come to the first-class hotels. Now and then you 
get a room with a drop light in it. You can then sit in 
your own room in the evening and read. But as a rule 
there is no drop light. The bureau and mirror are on 
one side of the room, heavy, rich, massive, no sparing of 
expense. Now, it is just as easy to have the lone gas 
jet close to the mirror. Then one can shave, see the 
parting of his hair and dress. But no ; either there is a 
bracket jet away over on the other side of the room, ora 
dim chandelier hanging so high that a man of my height 
has to stand on a chair and light it. And you might just 
as well try to read by the moon. And since the smaller 
towns have got to using electric lights I have had a time. 
The light in your room is a pear-shaped thing hanging 
on the end of a string, from the center of the ceiling. I 


ti 7 


With Gripsack . 

chase the beggarly thing all around the room sometimes 
before I can get a grip on it and turn it on. When it is 
turned on it is about a two-candle power, and you can 
neither read nor dress nor sit still and think by it. The 
hotel bedroom is exclusively a bedroom. It’s good to 
sleep in and nothing else. If there was any economy in 
making it uncomfortable and inconvenient, I wouldn’t 
kick. But any man who has ever traveled knows that 
the landlord often goes to a great expense of money and 
trouble to arrange his bedrooms to the greatest incon¬ 
venience of the guest who may have an insane notion 
that he would like to read and write in his own room. 

Robert J. Burdette. 


--- « - 

THEY BELIEVE IN ADVERTISING. 

A printer recently walked into a certain business house 
on his rounds to learn who desired anything in the way 
of advertisements, and noticed that a drummer stood by 
the counter with his sample valises ready to open. “ Any¬ 
thing you want to say in the paper this week ?” queried 
the printer of the man behind the counter. “ No,” said 
the business (?) man. “I don’t believe in advertising; 
I wouldn’t give a cent for all the advertising.” The 
drummer waited until the printer was half way to the 
door, and then slowly taking up his valise, remarked : 
“ Well, that let’s me out. I do not care to sell on time 
to any man, who in this age, does not believe in adver¬ 
tising. I prefer to deal with live men. When I want to 
strike up a trade with a dead man, I will go to the grave¬ 
yard and swap tombstones. Good-day, sir .—Schenectady 
Star. 



O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


118 

COURTEOUS RECEPTION OF COMMERCIAL 
TRAVELERS. 

The importance and value of a courteous reception to 
all commercial travelers is by no means as generally 
appreciated as it should be. Many dealers grow very 
impatient at interruption of this kind, and from thought¬ 
lessness—we are sure it can merit no harsher name— 
greet traveling men with coldness, if not absolute rude- 
ness of manner. This is altogether a mistake. A cour¬ 
teous reception should always be shown to the traveling 
salesmen from the houses which carry your line of goods. 
There are several good and sufficient reasons by which 
we can support this assertion. 

In the first place, then, these men are human, and 
appreciate human kindness. In knocking about the 
world, and finding much selfishness and rudeness in it, 
and very little of the kind and unselfish Christian spirit, 
they have come to be very callous to coldness and un¬ 
kindness ; still they can fully appreciate courtesy, and 
will always be grateful and willing to aid you in remem¬ 
brance of it. 

In the second place, you can learn much from travelers 
if you will. They bring new ideas ; they go from one 
part of the country to the other, and it is their constant 
aim to keep up with the trade fully. They are usually 
possessed of keen, observing minds, and give you hints 
f well worthy of adoption. Always look over their samples, 
take their prices, rates, etc., even though you do not 
require to buy at that time. Never be too busy to do 
this, for by this means you are gaining information that 
will be of direct profit to you. You are posting yourself 
in styles, prices and grades; when your next purchases 


With Gripsack . 119 

are needed, you will know the advantages you have 
gained through the traveler. 

To have the good will of the commercial traveler is a 
good omen for any dealer. They are a class that have 
their peculiarities, it is true, but as a rule, they are smart, 
intelligent men, and walking cyclopedias in their trade. 
It is their capital to know all about their business, and 
to make friends with all. These men can help the retailer, 
by giving him valuable information, as we have said, and 
also in many other ways. Their lot is a laborious one, 
their efforts are often but little appreciated. The retailer 
who remembers this, and who does what he can to make 
tneir hard lot easier, will surely not fail of his reward.— 
Bookseller and Stationer. 


THE MAIDEN SWEETLY SMILED. 

“ I hate a tunnel !” the maiden said, 

And closer to the drummer drew ; 

“They always make me feel afraid 
Of some disaster ; don’t they you ?” 

And then the drummer shook his mane. 

“You’re safe enough with me !” said he. 

“ Whatever happens to the train, 

You always can rely on me !” 

And, with ear-splitting whistle’s shriek, 
The train plunged in the black abyss ; 

The drummer sought her blooming cheek, 
And frescoed it with manly kiss. 

Emboldened by her sweet alarm, 

As on they tore through that eclipse, 

He laid her head upon his arm, 

And friezed a dado on her lips. 




120 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


“All, me !” the maiden sweetly smiled, 

As she arranged her tumbled hat, 

And once again the sunbeams filed 
In at the window where they sat. 

“Ah, me ! for once that horrid pest 
Was robbed of every startling fear. 

I thank you for your interest ; 

Excuse me, sir ; I get off here !” 

And so she left him drowned in sighs, 

And on the sea of soft dreams tossed, 

Of her sweet lips and pure, bright eyes, 

So quickly gained and quickly lost. 

To dream ! but, ah, at last to wake 
And learn that in the tunnel’s din, 

She’d seized upon her chance to snake 
His watch and chain and diamond pin ! 

—Drake s Traveler's Magazine. 


DIFFERENCE IN SALESMEN. 

One introduces himself as the representative of a 
house ; his address is respectful and pleasant, and the 
merchant glances over his samples, and listens to his 
arguments respecting styles, qualities and prices put 
forth in the usual manner, from the manifest stand¬ 
point of self-interest and desire to effect a sale. At 
length the merchant says, “I am glad to have met 
you and to see your goods, but trade is dull, collections 
slow ; besides, it is a little early in the season, so that I 
don’t feel like buying to-day. I will keep your card, 
and when in town again, come in and we may give you 
an order.” 


I 



With Gripsack . 


I 2 I 


The next day, perhaps, another salesman calls witli 
similar goods and prices. Somehow, he gets closer to 
the merchant. His talk is unassuming, sensible, not at 
all stereotyped, and it interests him. He seems to enter 
into the practical spirit of the merchant’s business, to 
realize his hopes and his struggles, and to appreciate his 
prudence. He touches upon details, and every-day 
results stand out clearly. He makes it plain that goods 
must be bought, or they cannot be sold ; yet he does 
not try to sell him more than he thinks it prudent for 
him to buy. His suggestions and recommendations are 
characterized by an intelligent interest in the welfare of 
the man he is dealing with ; he aims to do as he would be 
done by, and he shows it. As a result he takes with 
him an order, and leaves behind a customer and a friend. 
In these things lie the differences between salesmen on 
the road. 


SALESMEN AND THE RAILROADS. 

It is well known in commercial circles, that a very 
large proportion of the wholesale business of the coun¬ 
try is effected through the agency of traveling salesmen. 
Every house in every branch of the trade has its repre¬ 
sentatives on the road, and when we take into consider¬ 
ation the number of establishments seeking an exten¬ 
sion of their sales through their instrumentality, we can 
form something like an adequate idea of the number of 
persons so employed. Generally speaking they are 
observant, quick witted and intelligent, constant stu¬ 
dents of human nature, its faults, its frailties, and pecul¬ 
iarities, ever on the go, coming in contact with all 
kinds of people, and traversing the entire country, their 



12 2 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


influence is felt in every town and hamlet in the nation. 
For general information as regards traveling they are 
complete encyclopaedias of knowledge to the general 
public. The best hotels, railroads and routes of travel 
to them are subjects of every day study, and constant 
comment, and woe to the institution that comes under 
their ban. 

They furnish at least one half the trade of all the 
hotels of the country, which, to a great extent, is duly 
appreciated in reduced rates, and a ready willingness to 
aid and facilitate in every manner possible on the part 
of “ Mine Host.” But how about the railroads ? Not¬ 
withstanding traveling men are the principal factors in 
procuring freights ; notwithstanding they are generally 
the arbiters in the selection of the routes for shipment; 
notwithstanding the fact that they are ever acting gra¬ 
tuitously, and effectively acting as agents to promote 
the growth, the welfare and success of the railroads ; 
notwithstanding they are constantly pouring a steady 
stream of cash into the coffers of the railroad companies, 
what concession do they receive ? 

The politician can secure his annual pass and half 
rates for his lriends, the preachers and summer tourists 
who travel mayhap once a year, can be afforded reduced 
rates, excursion tickets and an extra allowance of bag¬ 
gage, and so on through the category, but to the class 
w T ho furnish thrift and vitality to every railroad corpor¬ 
ation, who wield an untold influence on those who 
travel occasionally, and w r ho must perforce travel con¬ 
tinually, what advantages are accorded ? Absolutely 
none. They are considered the legitimate prey for 
extortion, because forsooth, traveling with them is a 
necessity, “needs must when the devil drives,” and as a 
consequence they are fleeced in every conceivable man- 


With Gripsack . 


123 


ner. If they chance to have an extra pound of baggage 
it is not forgotten, they see local travelers enjoying the 
immunity of commutation rates, they see discrimination 
wherever they go, but never in their favor, and the 
wrong has become so palpable that it cries aloud for 
redress. Now, we suggest in these dull times, when 
business men are barely meeting expenses (fortunate if 
they do), that one or more of the leading railway lines 
adopt a system of commutation to traveling men as an 
experiment, and mark the result. There is a power to 
aid and foster a generous policy, and it will not be found 
unremunerative .—Merchant and Salesman. 


THEY ARE BUILT RIGHT. 

A business man must forfeit his life, 

To manifold calls day by day, 

But he can’t reach a hundred places at once, 
Because he ain’t built that way. 

—Rochester Herald. 

A good C. T. can converse and talk, 

Can chat and gossip all day ; 

And sell a bill that will fill the till, 

Because he is built that way. 

Next! 


JACK HAZZARD, COMMERCIAL TRAVELER. 

One of the “ old style ” of commercial travelers was 
Jack Hazzard, of New York. Jack was passionately 
fond of the “ pasteboards,” and would occasionally 
indulge in a little game with the boys in the basement 




124 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


of the store, when not upon the “ road.” One morning 
when thus engaged, the “ old man ” was heard approach¬ 
ing, and Jack stuffed his last trick in his pocket, chucked 
the rest of his pack into an empty case, and the company 
broke up. The cause of the intrusion was soon 
explained by Jack receiving an order to start for Phila¬ 
delphia at once with samples of a new line of goods. 
Jack flung the samples into a valise, put on a clean 
paper collar, bought ten cigars for a quarter, and started 
at once. Arrived in Philadelphia his first call was 
on an old Quaker house on Broad street. Pulling him¬ 
self together Jack marched in, and laying a card before 
the senior partner, who was busily engaged at his 
desk, said in his most sanctimonious manner, “That 
is the party I have the honor to represent.” The old 
follower of Penn looked carefully at the card, and then 
fixing his steady blue eyes on Jack, handed it back, say¬ 
ing : “ If that is the party thee represents, thee will find 

Philadelphia well stocked with his goods.” Jack cast 
one horrified look at the card. It was the “ little joker,” 
on which a fellow clerk had strongly sketched the head 
and horns of His Satanic Majesty, and the bold sales¬ 
man, for once discomfited, beat a hasty retreat to his 
hotel .—Boston Commercial Bulletin. 


HIS PARTNER. 

This poem was read at the Annual banquet of the 
Commercial Travelers’ Association of Iowa, by its 
President, Banks : 

Friends, I’ve a story to relate 
About one of the boys. I’ll state 
Right here, ’tis short, 



With Gripsack . 


125 


Near as I can I'll tell the tale 
Just as I heard it. Should I fail— 

But no—without excuse I’ll sail 
Straight into court. 

A commercial man, on sales intent, 

Into a country store house went, 

With smiling face and bland ; 

Right thro’ the crowd about the stove 
Straight on the merchant’s desk he drove, 
His “ grip-sack ” on the counter hove, 

And shook the merchant’s hand. 

Then, while his tongue ran quick and fast, 
Upon the merchant’s face he cast 
His most persuasive look ; 

Pleading the while, “ I’ll gladly show 
My pleasing lines and prices low,” 

He spread his samples in a row, 

And ope’d his order book. 

Erstwhile a form came through the door 
In clothing tattered, old and poor, 

And happening to the spot 
Where, by his wares, the traveler stood, 
Seeming in an inquiring mood, 

Asked not—“ please, sir, do I intrude ?” 
But fingered o’er the lot. 

The sample man, with darksome frown 
Gazed on the seedy hat and gown, 

That clothed the country man. 

And when he asked, in gentle way, 

“ What is the price of this to-day ?” 
Turned quickly on that sinner gray, 

And thus to him began : 


126 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

“ Pray, what is that to you, gray head ? 

I represent the wholesale trade ; 

Why—look—you cannot buy ! 

D’you know, old man, you’re too fresh—quite ! 
My goods would be in a pretty plight 
Had every straying man the right 
To handle them—come, fly.” 

The old man turned his glass-trimmed eyes, 
With steady look of mild surprise, 

Upon the man of ire ; 

Then, as on some deep thought intent, 

Turned slowly round, and silent went 
Back to the stove, where, forward leant, 

He warned him o’er the fire. 

“ Bah !” said the traveler, “ what a boor, 

Such men I never could endure ; 

A plague on them I say.” 

The merchant smiled. “ I fear,” said he, 

“ With you I hardly can agree.” 

“Why?” “Oh, because he is, you see, 

My partner, sir. Good-day/* 


COMMERCIAL TRAVELERS AND YOUNG MEN’S 
CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATIONS. 

Quite a number of Commercial Travelers were in 
attendance upon the International Convention of Y. M. 
C. Associations at Cleveland, O., May 24-29, and a deep 
interest was manifested in this particular branch of the 
Y. M. C. A. work. 

Rev. F. Von Schluembach spoke as follows : 

I am just as much a Commercial Traveler as anybody 






127 


With Gripsack. 

The goods I have for sale are the best goods in the world, 
but the thing of most importance was, first, what can we 
do for the Commercial Traveler, and second, what can 
they do for us ? I will tell you what happened to me in 
Boston. The clerk at the hotel one day handed me a 
letter ; I thought, what can this mean ? they know me 
already. I opened it and it was an invitation to a Com¬ 
mercial Traveler’s meeting. I looked up and the clerk 
had a laugh in his eye. He thought I was a lager beer 
brewer, you know ; he laughed at that invitation, but I 
thanked him for it. I laughed, too ; I felt good ; I went 
to my room and I put myself in the Commercial Travel¬ 
ers’ place, and I found I was alone ; then I read that let¬ 
ter and I felt good. I thought how lonesome those fellows 
must be. After that good meeting I came home and I 
felt my room door open ; I saw the door next to me open; 
I walked to my door, and that man walked to his ; then 
we came out in the hall and we got to talking. He got 
to talking about religion. He didn’t believe in religion, 
he was an infidel, he talked all the infidel arguments and 
I led him on with them. I gave him more rope. I knew 
they had been gambling in his room all night before. 
Then I began to haul in that rope.. He found out I had 
been an infidel and I found out that he was the son of a 
minister. By and by the tears began to come, and sit¬ 
ting on the stair rail up in that top story he saw himself 
and was melted to tears. Then we went in the room and 
prayed, and he has ever since been telling the story of 
the cross wherever he went and he is doing good service. 
In St. Louis I went into a place to see a man on business. 
One of these “drummers” was there. He wanted to sell 
some jewelry. “Get out,” said the proprietor, “I don’t 
want to see your samples.” “But you must,” said the 
man. “I won’t get out.” “ Get out,” said he again. “I 





128 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


won’t,” said the man, and he began to unpack. The 
man became interested, and so did L He showed him a 
fine lot of goods, diamonds, pearls and precious stones 
set in gold, and he sold the man seven hundred dollars’ 
worth. “ Well,” I thought,“ that fellow is smart.” When 
he had sold his little bill he said to the merchant: “ Now 
I have one more thing to show you ; the best thing I have 
got,” and lie began to go down deeper into his cases, and 
I began to wonder what could he mean. Better than 
gold, and diamonds, and pearls ? and I got up closer, 
and the merchant did, too. The “drummer” took out a 
little case and opened it, and there was a Bagster Bible, 
and he began to turn it over, and said, “ This is the pearl 
of great price ; this is better than all earthly possessions ; 
it is God’s word. Sir, are you a Christian ?” I never 
heard anything like that. It took right hold of the mer¬ 
chant and of me. That’s the kind of fellows these Com¬ 
mercial Travelers are when they go to work, and we must 
have them. 


DR. TALMAGE TALKS TO THE TRAVELERS. 

Here is a brief synopsis from the report of a sermon 
preached by Rev. Dr. T. DeWitt Talmage, to commercial 
travelers. It is from the Hew York Herald: 

Mr. Talmage preached to the commercial travelers. 
There are 285,000 professed commercial travelers in the 
United States, said he, but 500,000 would not include 
the number of those at some time engaged in the service. 
They have their official newspaper organ, their mutual 
benefit associations, with 2,000 names on the roll, and 
have distributed more than $68,000 among the families 
of deceased members. They are a ubiquitous, unique 
and tremendous power for good or evil. In a few days 



With Gripsack. 


12C) 


our national perplexities will all be settled, and then look 
out for the brightest ten years of national prosperity 
which this country has ever witnessed. All our astute 
commercial men feel that we are standing at the open¬ 
ing door of coming prosperity. Let the merchants open 
new sets of account books in place of those filled with 
long columns of bad debts. Let them start on a new 
commercial train. It is impossible, it is said, that this 
land from so much depression should ever revive. In 
1857 there were failures to the amount of $291,000,000. 
We got over that. We will get over this. Mr. Talmage 
then addressed himself to commercial travelers in the 
following words : 

Now you, the commercial traveler, have received orders 
from the head man of the firm ; you are to start on the 
long excursion. Well, what is this little package in the 
valise ? “ Oh,” you say, “ that’s a pack of cards. There’s 
certainly no harm in a pack of cards—is there ?” In¬ 
stead of answering your question I will tell you that 
there are thousands of men with as strong a brain as you 
have who have dropped down into the gambler’s life and 
into the gambler’s hell. What’s that other bundle in the 
valise? “ Oh,” you say, “ that’s a brandy flask.” Well, 
my brother, just empty the contents and fill it with 
cholera mixture. It’s very important to have something 
that will help you in case of sudden illness. Only one 
more advice to you and then I will have done with your 
baggage. Take some good wholesome reading ; let it 
be a historical work or even a work of fiction, or some 
work that will be of peculiar advantage in your business. 
Get a Bible with large type. 

Now you are ready to start. You have your valise in 
your right hand, and your blanket and shawl strapped 
in your left. Good-by ! May you have a prosperous 


130 


O'er Rail and Cross - Tie$ 


voyage, large sales and great percentages. Oh, there’s one 
thing I forgot to ask you about, “ What train are you going 
to take ?” “ Well,” you say, “ I will take the five o’clock 

Sunday afternoon train. I will save a day by that, and I 
will be by Monday morning in the commercial establish¬ 
ments by the time the merchants get down town.” My 
brother, you are starting wrong. Sabbath breaking pays 
no better in this world than it pays in the next. If the 
Sabbath is given for the employer it is given for the 
employed. The dollar that you earn on the Sabbath is a 
red-hot dollar, and if you put it in a bag with 5,000 
honest dollars that red-hot dollar will burn a hole through 
the bag and let out all the 5,000 honest dollars with it. 

For a few weeks now you will pass half your time in 
the railroad train. How are you going to spend it ? 
Don’t do as most of the commercial travelers do—sit 
reading the same newspaper over and over again, look¬ 
ing listlessly out of a window, or spending three or four 
hours in the smoking car, the nastiest place in Christen¬ 
dom. Instead of that call Shakespeare and Tennyson 
and Ezekiel and Paul, inspired men of God—call them 
to stay with you and talk with you. 

But you have come now to the end of your railroad 
travel. You saunter out among the merchants and begin 
business. There are two things you must remember. 
First, that all the trade you get by the practice of treat¬ 
ing always damages the house that gets it. Besides, you 
can’t afford to injure yourself for the sake of your 
employers. Again, I charge you, tell the whole truth 
about everything you sell. Lying travelers will precede 
you and lying travelers will come after you ; don’t let 
their lying competition tempt you to do as much. 

But it is almost night, and you are getting back now 
to the hotel. You go back to the hotel. Now comes the 


With Gripsack . 


J 3 X 

nightly tug for the commercial traveler. Tell me where 
he spends his evenings and I will tell you where he will 
spend eternity. There's your room with the books ; 
there’s the Young Men’s Christian Association room ; 
there’s the gambling saloon, the theatre and the house 
of infamy. The theatre—do you think the tarrying in 
that place till eleven o’clock at night will improve your 
bodily health or earthly fortunes? No man ever found 
the path of commercial success or heavenly reward 
through the American theatre. 

“ Well,” you say, “ I guess, then, I will go to the 
gambling saloon.” You will first go to look on ; then you 
will go to play. You will make $ioo, or $500 or $1,000 ; 
you will make $1,500—then you will lose all. Then you 
will borrow some money so as to start anew. You will 
make $50, then $200, then $600 ; then you will lose it all. 
Those wretches of the gambling saloon know how to 
tempt you. They lead you on, and lead you on ; but, 
mark this, all gamblers die poor. They may make 
great fortunes, but they lose them. You say, “John 
Morrisey is a brilliant exception.” John Morrisey is not 
dead yet. I wish he were. (Sensation.) 

“ Well,” you say, “ if I can’t go to the theatres and can’t 
go to the gambling saloon, I guess I will go to the house 
of infamy.” Halt ! (in a stentorian tone). There are 
other gates of sin through which a man may go and yet 
come out; but that gate has a spring lock which snaps 
him in forever. He who goes there is damned already. 
He may seem comparatively free for a little while, but 
he is only on the limits, and Satan’s police have their eye 
on him to bring him in any minute. The curse of God 
is on that crime. There are men here to-day whose 
heaven was blotted out ten years ago. There is no 
danger that they will be lost—they are lost now. I look 


132 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


down through their glaring eyeballs, down into the 
lowest caverns of hell. 

Oh, commercial traveler ! I pray for you to-day. 
There is another day, when you will need divine grace : 
the one when you have no success. That night you will 
be sore tempted to give away to strong drink ; the other 
day when you will have great success, and the devil 
will tempt you, and tell you you must go and celebrate 
your success. 

There is another day, the last of your life. I don’t 
know where you will spend it—more probably in the 
railroad car, or some strange hotel I see you on your 
commercial errand. The train of your earthly existence 
is nearing the depot of the grave. The brakes are fall¬ 
ing, the bell rings, at the terminus the train stops. 
All out for Eternity ! Show your ticket now for getting 
into the gate of the Shining City—the ticket washed in 
the blood of the Lamb. “ What shall it profit a man if he 
gain the whole world and lose his soul.” 

Speaking of this sermon the Commercial Traveler said : 
Commercial men are schooled in one thing, they possess 
the art of listening politely and silently ; we may say, 
without fear of successful contradiction, they possess this 
art “ to perfection ” even when those who address them 
may be speaking concerning things about*which there is 
an honest difference of opinion. Rev. Mr. Talmage has 
spoken some good words. He is one of Brooklyn’s big 
guns, hardly of the rifled kind, in one sense, and this : 
he puts in aiuch powder. We hope to hear Rev, Mr. 
Talmage is to speak again to our friends. We wish it 
expressly for this reason : the preacher, if he be reported 
correctly, addressed only a very small class of commercial 
travelers. The majority of commercial men are neither 


With Gripsack . 


133 


drunkards, gamblers, prostitutes or Sabbath breakers. 
Of course the Rev. Mr. Talmage don’t think they are, 
but it might have been a little more just if he had 
said so. 

- ♦- 

THE SMARTEST OF THEM ALL. 

“ Greatest man to pump the town and get acquainted 
with folks I ever saw, Jap Johnson was,” said a traveling 
man. “ Give Jap a chance, for a night and a day, in a 
country place, and everybody there would call him by 
his first name, and he’d call everybody the same way, 
even the girls. In forty-eight hours he’d know every 
man, woman, child, horse, dog and cat in the town, and 
could tell who married who, who got drunk once in a 
while, and who had fits or rheumatics. Give him three 
days in a town, and he’d have every bit of the gossip and 
musty old scandals that ever went over the back fences 
of that town, down finer ’n silk. He was a wonderful 
man, Jap was, and he could sell goods like a house afire. 
The biggest thing he ever did, though, was ’bout four 
years ago. He had four hours to spend in a little town 
in Western Iowa. In that time he sold two bills of goods, 
was invited to dinner by the mayor, decided four bets, 
was referee in a dog fight, proposed marriage and was 
accepted by the belle of the place, borrowed $5.00 from 
her pa, beat another man two games of billiards—and 
it happening to be election day, he capped the mansard 
by sailing in, and having himself elected town clerk by a 
majority of eleven votes .—Chicago Herald . 



i34 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 




CHAPTER IV. 

THE TRAVELING MAN’S HOME. 

The following is related of an old farmer in the north¬ 
ern portion of this State, who had forsaken the Jerusa¬ 
lem of his youth, beaten his plowshare into a carving- 
knife, moved into his county town and opened a hotel, 
which was labeled in large letters across the front, “The 
Traveling Man’s Home.” He had waited long and anx¬ 
iously for the traveling men to awaken to a sense of 
appreciation of what he was itching to do for them in 
the way of providing home comforts, and was at last 
rewarded by the appearance of two sleek-looking 
Knights of the Grip who came off the Baltimore & Ohio 
east-bound train, and, after having registered, they 
asked for a large double front room. The old gentle¬ 
man fairly bubbled over with hospitality, never forget¬ 
ting to keep prominent all of the “ home comfort ” feat¬ 
ures of his establishment, but the climax was reached 
when he took them up to bed. “Gist see how nice and 
clean everything is, boys. Look at them there piller- 
shams. Hain’t that like home ?” Then turning down 
the bed clothes and patting the sheets: “ Git yer eye on 
them sheets once ! Did you ever see any cleaner sheets 
than them at home? Lots of these here fellers that 
keeps hotel use the same sheets three and four days 
hand runnin’, but you bet yer life you don’t find none of 
that here ; these here sheets was washed this mornin.’ 
Gist feel of'm, boys; they’re damp yit !”—Ohio State 
Journal . 


With Gripsack . 


1 3S 


LONG-LIVED COMMERCIAL TRAVELERS. 

In a recent issue allusion was made to the singular 
exemption from accident on rail or water which seems 
to be enjoyed by commercial travelers ; but it appears 
that this is not the only way in which the men on the 
road are favored by fortune. Statistics lately published 
by the Connecticut Life Insurance Company show that 
among the 70,000 males insured by that company during 
thirty-two years, there were two classes of men espe¬ 
cially conspicuous for longevity, namely, traveling sales¬ 
men and lumbermen. Journalists and clergymen, who 
are very appropriately classed together, make a much 
worse showing in the mortality record. It is commonly 
supposed that the regular habits, avoidance of intoxicat¬ 
ing drinks, and strict adherence, generally speaking, to 
the severest standard of morality for which journalists 
are so noted, are conducive to longevity. Yet we see 
that while this strict morality gives long life to the 
commercial traveler, the equally virtuous editor is not so 
favored. There is a mystery here which the social 
science philosophers would do well to investigate.— 
Carpet Trade and Review. 


NO WONDER. 

“ The man of the grip ” numbers 285,000 in this coun¬ 
try. No wonder some of his jokes are stale. All the 
almanacs in the world would not furnish new jokes for 
285,000 drummers .—Tribune of Rome , 




136 


Ger Rail and Cross -Ties 


THE BA D. 

We are a band of drummers brave, 

We neither toil nor spin, 

But yet, you bet we work the town 
And give it lots of chin. 

If taken all in all, we are 
A handsome set of men, 

Mustaches sweet and siders fair, 

A bald head now and then. 

And who can talk as we can talk 
(Just some one answer that). 

Or sing as we McGintv’s woes— 

And Where’d you get that hat. 

We never blow about ourselves, 

Too modest, too polite, 

To speak our own effulgent praise 
Before this crowd to-night. 

Our babies always take the prize, 
They are of the largest make, 

And as to sweethearts and to wives 
Our’s always take the cake. 

A great religious set are we, 

We nothing know of dice ; 

We never play for poker chips, 

We've not a single vice. 

The temperance cause we nobly lead, 
Our drinks are grave aud mild. 

Let no one kindly now suggest 
JIow often we have smiled. 


With Gripsack. 


137 


Our only fault is bashfulness ; 

O, brother, let us try 
To mend our ways and no more be 
So timid and so shy ! 

H. C. Elder. 


TIPS. 

Spasm 1. 

When a C. T. is C. T-ing, 

With his samples and a grip, 

He can never fail of seeing 
The advantage of the “ tip." 

He must tip the jolly porter, 

Tip the boy who answers bell 
If he’d “do it as he oughter” 

At the very best hotel. 

2d Spasm. 

He must be a cheery joker, 

He must have his jibe and chaff, 
He must play it fine at poker, 

He must cultivate his laugh, 

He must learn the latest story, 
And know how to tell it well 
If he’d blaze in C. T. glory 
At the very best hotel. 

Spasm 3. 

Uncommercials at the table 

Wink and wonder, as they stare, 
Why the C. T„ 9 s always able 
To command the bill of fare ? 



138 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

Though to dine he may come later, 
His persuasives always tell 

As he tips the clever waiter 
At the very best hotel. 

4 th Spasm. 

Chambermaid or blacking-artist, 
Or the driver of the “ buss," 

The stupidest or smartest— 

They can all remember us ; 

For that Tip’s the “very devil ” 
When we try to cut a swell; 

'Tis the pull on service civil 
At the very best hotel. 


THE DRUMMER’S LIFE. 

One came in the morning, with eager eye 
The register scanned, then quickly sought 
The merchant out, induced him to buy, 

And his book was soon with an order fraught. 
So the drummer comes and the drummer goes, 
And his heart with joy is ready to burst. 

He recks not, he, his competitors’ woes, 

But hugs himself that he got there first. 

One came in the evening, with hopeful air, 

And spread his samples in a hurried way, 

But left full soon, bowed down with care— 

The “other fellow” had passed that day. 

So the drummer comes and the drummer goes, 
And the days are bright and the days are sad, 
Yet cheerful always, and no one knows 
Why the heart is sore of the drummer lad. 



With Gripsack . 139 

They met ere a month was scarcely past, 

And hand clasped in hand, in firm, true grip, 

And “ brother” and “brother” to each was cast 
From beaming eye and speaking lip. 

So the drummer comes and the drummer goes, 

And his hand is ready, his heart is brave, 

To buffet life’s evils with sturdy blows, 

Till he takes his last order and fills—a grave. 

Charles Eugene Banks. 


THE SAMPLE KINGS. 

The first drummer I ever became acquainted with 
drove four magnificent horses attached to a huge cara- 
van filled with candy, writes a contributer of the Christian 
Union. I could hear the rattle of this traveling house 
almost a mile away, and when the driver turned the corner 
into the main street of our village, and with a snap of the 
whip warned other vehicles to get out of the way, to my 
boyish eyes the candy drummer was greater than any 
king. This method of selling goods and delivering 
them at the same time has not died out altogether, but 
the increase of railroads and the facilities for reaching 
many otherwise difficult points of access has made the 
four-horse method too slow, except for the smaller 
places. The commercial tourist of to-day often finds 
the railroads too slow ; he would welcome an invention 
that would annihilate the distance between his towns, 

The first thing the traveling man does, leaving on his 
first trip, is to lay out his route, or have some one more 
experienced than himself tell him where to go. Then 
he gets from the Mercantile Agency, books—books-con- 
taining the name of every merchant in every town in 



140 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


the United States—his list of prospective customers ; 
perhaps some of them have already had dealings with 
his firm. The amount of baggage he carries depends 
upon the business he is in ; the necessities of some lines 
require only a sample case, while others bring into use 
from one to six huge trunks, the terror of baggage mas¬ 
ters. I met a man in New Orleans who had fourteen 
bales all rolled up in canvas and bound with straps. 
He was a carpet drummer. With samples all packed, 
and route laid out, it is customary to inform by postal 
card the principal merchants on the line the probable 
day of your arrival in his town. These advance cards 
offer an opportunity for many humorous devices ; for it 
is a great point to have a drawing, or a few lines of 
verse that leave an impression. This impression some¬ 
times influences a merchant to wait for a particular 
man before purchasing his goods. The last thing to do, 
and the most important of all, is to visit the cashier and 
get the allowance of money for traveling expenses. 
The amount furnished depends upon the time it will 
take to make the trip—from $4 to $12 or even $15 a day 
being allowed, according to the distance the towns or 
cities are apart. This amount is sometimes given in 
currency, and sometimes part currency and part checks 
or drafts. Some men travel on commission—getting 
2, 5 or 10 per cent, of their sales—and pay their own 
expenses ; others receive a salary based on the business 
they do, and their expenses are paid by the house, 
which last is the most popular way for beginners. 
With handshakings all around and wishes for his suc¬ 
cess freely expressed, the drummer starts out on his 
first trip with mingled feelings of hope and fear. He 
buys his ticket at a reduced rate, and soon learns to 
travel as cheap as the cheapest, and withal to have the 


With Gripsack . 


141 

best of everything. This last is the motto the average 
traveling man carries in his mind. He stays at the best 
hotels, and pays the lowest price. Arriving at the first 
town on his list, the commercial traveler goes to the 
hotel picked out for him by an old traveler, registers in 
a bold handwriting, New York City out in full ; at the 
second place he writes New York merely, and before he 
gets back home is satisfied with N. Y. Then he looks 
around the town. If it is evening, he strolls by the 
firms he hopes to sell, and wonders what kind of a 
reception he will meet. When the time arrives for him 
to begin his business, he calls on the trade. If any of 
his samples can be put in a grip-sack he carries them 
with him, and shows his wares in the stores ; but if he has 
trunks filled with goods, he first displays them attrac¬ 
tively in a sample room at the hotel, and then endeavors 
to make appointments for the buyers to meet him there. 

The first day on the road is a memorable one in the 
minds of many men who have since obtained high 
places ; a day of excitement, discouragement and 
wonder if one will ever succeed. It needs courage to carry 
one through it without giving up entirely. When the 
first town has been thoroughly drummed, not a stone 
left unturned that might possibly result in a sale, then 
the baggage is again packed, the hotel bill paid, 
and over the rails to the next place ! What a life 
of excitement ! On the go always ; always seeing 
something new, making new friends, learning something. 
And the temptations ! It is a life fraught with many 
dangers, the very love of excitement it engenders the 
greatest danger of all. Away from home, in a strange 
place, with bright, entertaining companions proposing 
this, that and the other form of amusement, it is no 
wonder that many fall by the way. But it is a test. 


142 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

Without temptation what would character be worth ? 
Said a commercial traveler whom I met on Broadway 
recently : “ I have been traveling ten years, and all I 
have to show for it is a stock of bad habits and an 
unsettled disposition.” On the very next block I met a 
member of the firm of a large dry goods house, who 
began as an errand boy and had traveled five years. 
Still young, he had married, settled down, and was a 
highly respected citizen. Such examples are found in 
every profession .—Hotel Gazette. 


THE DRUMMERS’ GALLERY. 

(Lines suggested on viewing the collection of Drum¬ 
mers’ photographs in the office of Messrs. Henking, Bovie 
& Co., Gallipolis, Ohio.) 

The Drummers’ photo gallery, 

A wonder, I’ll declare ; 

The only one on record, 

’Tis an exhibition rare. 

Four hundred different faces 
Are arrayed upon the wall. 

They represent all sorts of men ; 

The fat, the lean, the tall. 

There’s one thing you’ll be sure to note, 
Explain it if you can, 

In all this variegated group, 

There’s not an ugly man. 

Though taken in all sorts of styles, 

With “samples” and with “grips,” 

The exclamation : “ Handsome crowd,” 

Will linger on your lips. 



With Gripsack. 


143 


Some sit on boxes, labeled well, 

But here is one I’ll vow, 

Whoever heard of such a thing, 

He’s taken with a cow. 

Well yes, I do remember, now, 

This is the brand of Dwight, 

And, if his soda you will try, 

Your bread will turn out right. 

A single “ rose ” among the “ thorns ” 
One female face I see, 

An advocate of “woman’s rights,’’ 

And glorious liberty. 

Old “ roadsters ” are among the group, 
For some are bald and gray. 

They’ve traveled with the jolly “boys’* 
For many a long, long day. 

Their faces soon will disappear, 

Save in these photos here, 

For shorter grows their brief sojourn 
With every coming year. 

A few have left the noble band, 

These photos, draped in black. 

Bespeak the sad’ning truth too plain 
They’ll never more come back. 

Oh, will these Drummers gathered here 
From every State and clime, 

Still make a fair, unbroken group 
Beyond the bounds of time ? 


144 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


Oil, will these faces pictured 
To my eager, wondering eyes, 

Appear, without a blemish, 

In the gallery of the skies ? 

Geo. L. Marshall. 


THE BOYS ON THE ROAD. 

There are men on the road who can tell you funny 
stories for hours at a stretch, and their fund is inexhaust¬ 
ible. Some country merchants can be captured by a 
good story who are impregnable to all other assaults, 
and cases are known of dealers who absolutely decline 
to “talk business” until they have been regaled with the 
latest city jokes. A budget of good stories is nothing to 
be sneered at, because nothing so pleasantly destroys the 
tedium of a long ride, or long wait at a lonely station for 
a train, as a rattling good yarn. What a memory for 
name, dates and places, faces and prices, the successful 
gripman must have ! To forget the name of a custom¬ 
er’s obscure clerk or to fail to recognize the customer’s 
baby by proper title would often mean the loss of a sale. 
The veteran traveler is apt to be accomplished in several 
ways. Many of them are gladly welcomed at the country 
hotels where the landlord’s ungainly daughters listen in 
rapturous silence to the brilliant rendition of the latest 
city “ pieces.” A sonorous chorus will always be at hand 
if there are any travelers, and quartets of excellent cal¬ 
ibre will be improvised at a moment’s notice .—Hatier 
and Furrier. 



With Gripsack . 


145 


THEY FORGE A LINK. 

The following lines were written by E. F. Fletcher, of 
Boston, and read recently at a social gathering in Syra¬ 
cuse : 

Drummers, like straws upon a restless stream, 

Meet and part and ne’er again are seen ; 

Like bubbles blown from childish hands on high, 
Meeting and bursting ere they reach the sky. 

So drummers meet and in the busy mart 
They forge a link in friendship’s chain, then part. 
Years come and go ; they may ne’er meet again, 

But link by link they’ve forged a mighty chain 
Whose compass binds the heart of one to all 
In sympathetic answer to a call. 

If there be death among the loved at home, 

Far from the drummer that is- forced to roam ; 

A gentle pressure of his comrade’s palm 
Lends to his aching heart a soothing balm ; 

Or, if unsuccessful in the field of trade, 

Kind words encourage in the war they wage, 

And when on earth their race is fairly run, 

May they be greeted with “Come in ! Well done !” 


SENT HIM A SETTER. 

A sporting C. T. who ached for a day’s gunning, wrote 
a friend to lend him a setter. His friend expressed him 
a three-year-old speckled hen ! C, T. setter up and shot 
her on the spot 



146 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


A POEM. 

It is all very well for the drummer to tell, 

By way of his “ chestnuts ” adorning, 

Of how he piled out to catch the “express” 

At three o’clock in the morning ; 

Of the order he captured by “getting there” first, 

And his “half-past-six” nap scorning; 

With his collar and necktie stuffed into his hat 
At three o’clock in the morning. 

But between you and I, it’s all a d-false impression— 

Believe not one word that he utters ; 

For when he is called by the bell-boy at seven, 

He cusses, and grumbles, and mutters. 

Why, the fact is right here : If told to “vamoose” 

In a hurry. “ The hotel is on fire,” 

It’s twenty to naught (if his room wasn’t caught) 

He’d come back with “ I think you’re a-” discredit 

you. 

It may not be wrong—when he gives you a son 
And dance on the size of his orders— 

To shoot rather recklessly, put it quite strong, 

Tell his tale on the fairyland borders ; 

But you know very well it’s quite different to tell 
Without having given you warning, 

How he went out of bed, his hotel and his head, 

At three o’clock in the morning. 

My impression is this (stated with emphasis), 

That a drummer who would contract such habits 

Would be shunned by the trade on the route which he 
made— 

You can not hunt merchants like rabbits. 




With Gripsack. 


H7 


Besides, in less time than a year he would find 
His vitality in such a fix, sir, 

That to travel at all he’d have to subsist (very largely) 
On Doctor Brown-Sequard’s elixir. 


THE BATTERED OLD GRIP’S LAMENT. 

Yes, Fm an old gripsack worn out in the race; 

A newer and brighter has taken my place; 

High up ’neath the rafters contemptuously cast, 
Neglected, to dream of a glorious past; 

No comrade to share my lone exile, ah me. 

I, who have traveled by land and by sea, 

In my old age forsaken, ’mongst cobwebs and dust, 
Slowly falling to pieces from disuse and rust. 

It is gloomy enough, I assure you up here 
In this grim, dreary place, and oft-times a fear 
That I never shall see the bright sunlight again, 
Stirs my shrunken old sides with a wearisome pain; 
I deserve something better than rust and mildew— 
To my trust I was always faithful and true— 

And they surely could spare an old servant a nook 
Where life had something of cheer in its look. 

Oh the pathway of life, lay it out as we may, 

A word or a breath may change in a day. 

And now that I’m broken by service and age, 

I’m tossed like a vagabond into this cage— 

Like a storm-beaten ship cast up on the strand— 
’Tis the way of the world, and fate’s cruel hand 
Has little of pity; our usefulness past, 

We are all laid aside and forgotten at last. 




148 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

My master has now all the comforts of life, 

A neat cheerful home, a sweet loving wife, 

Bright, rosy-cheeked children to comfort his cheer, 

A bank account growing from year to year; 

And when the kind darkness has driven away 
The shadows that mock my poor semblance of day, 

And their concerted voices float up to my den 
In laughter and song, I am happy again. 

Sometimes, but not often, two pairs of small feet 
Bring two little figures my prison to greet, 

And two little faces make sunshine of gloom, 

And two merry voices make joy in the room; 

And oft in their play, with frolic and shout, 

They toss my battered, worn figure about. 

Oil, may they never suffer the heart-aches and stings 
The sorrows and woes which adversity brings. 

Thus day after day I lie here and dream, 

While drift the dull years down Time’s sluggish stream, 
Calling up the dear pictures of days “on the road,” 
When trouble and care was a feather-weight load. 

The engine’s shrill whistle strikes sharp on my ear, 

The bluff, hearty greetings of “ brothers ” I hear; 

I dream and awake to my desolate lot, 

To feel that I was, and know I am not. 

Oli, ye who successfully 'counter life’s ills, 

And mount to the summit of fortune-kissed hills, 

While plenty surrounds you and pleasures o’erload 
Remember the weaker ones passed on the road. 

And if there’s a brother in trouble to-day, 

Who neglected himself to help you on your way, 

Help him out—who can tell but your own feet may slip— 
Just think of the face of the batter’d old grip. 

Chas. Eugene Banks. 


With Gripsack. 


149 


THE TRUE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER. 

The true commercial traveler is the mouth-piece of his 
employer, a guide for his customers and a commercial 
convenience to both. He will study the interests of his 
employer, the character and wants of his customer, so 
that through him both will secure benefits and profit. 
In all his dealings he will be true to the first, truthful 
with the second, and trustful of himself. 

He will be polite, perseveriug and pushing ; polite but 
not servile, persevering but not presumptuous, and push¬ 
ing but not offensive. His conversation will be samples 
of his character, his actions the indices of good motives, 
and his outward appearance the reflex of an honest 
heart. 

Above all, he will cultivate self-respect, for, before 
others will respect him, he must respect himself. 

A man may rid himself of an enemy, avoid pernicious 
companions, but himself he can not. His mind, his 
thoughts and conscience are ever with him, ready at all 
times to encourage or condemn .—The National Commer¬ 
cial I'raveler. 

- «. - 

DRUMMERS, TRUE MISSIONARIES. 

“ Pilgrims,” “ Angels,” “ Runners,” “ Agents,” “ Lords 
of Commerce,” “ Commercial Tourists,” “ Drummers ” 
and “ Missionaries,” are a very few of the numerous am¬ 
biguous appellations applied to the great Forces which 
keep the Commercial World revolying upon its axis, 
open the gates of Heathen nations to the reception of 
the Gospel, and bind them to our own benign civiliza¬ 
tion and Christianity with the strong bands of trade. 



150 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

We, “ Missionaries,” the exponents of the World’s com¬ 
merce and prosperity, do know that commerce and 
Christianity go hand in hand, and that were not the com¬ 
mercial instinct of the Heathen first gratified, the efforts 
of the missionaries of the Church of God would be 
greatly impaired. We, “Agents” of Mammon, “Pil¬ 
grims ” through an inhospitable world, prepare the way 
for the church ; build up our home enterprises ; enrich 
corporations which extend their ventures into all lands ; 
and indeed, indirectly, wield the “ Angelic ” influence 
which turns the Heathen to repentance. Follow this 
thought from the Celestial Empire to our own American 
Indian reservations, and then call us “ Missionaries.” 

W. C. Amos. 

Baltimore, Md., Nov. 14, ’87. 

- « - 

THE DRUMMER’S BEST GIRL. 

He hurried up to the office, as soon as he entered the 
hotel, and without waiting to register, inquired eagerly : 

“ Any letter for me ?” 

The clerk sorted over the package with the negligent 
attention that comes from practice, then flipped one—a 
very small one—on the counter. 

The traveler took it with a curious smile that twisted 
his pleasant-looking face into a mask of expectancy. 

He smiled more as he read it. Then oblivious of 
other travelers who jostled him, he laid it tenderly 
against his lips, and actually kissed it. 

A loud guffaw greeted this. 

“Now look here, old fellow,” said a loud voice, “that 
won’t do, you know. Too spooney for anything. Con¬ 
fess now, your wife never wrote that letter.” 



With Gripsack * 151 

“No, she did not,” said the traveling man with an 
amazed look, as if he would like to change the subject. 
“That letter is from my best girl." 

The admission was so unexpected, that the trio of 
friends who had caught him, said no more until after 
they had eaten a good dinner and were seated together 
in a chum’s room. Then they began to badger him. 

“It’s no use, you’ve got to read it to us, Dick,” said 
one of them ; “ we want to know all about your best girl.” 

“ So you shall,” said Dick, with great coolness; “I 
will give you the letter and you can read it yourselves. 
There it is,” and he laid it open on the table. 

“ I guess not,” said the one who had been loudest in 
demanding it; “ we like to chaff a little, but I hope we 
are gentlemen. The young lady would hardly care to 
have her letter read by this crowd,” and he looked 
reproachfully at his friends. 

“ But I insist upon it,” was the answer. “ There is noth¬ 
ing in it to be ashamed of—except the spelling ; that is 
a little shaky, I’ll admit, but she won’t care in the least. 
Read it, Hardy, and judge for yourself.” 

Thus urged, Hardy took up the letter shamefacedly 
enough, and read it. There were only a few words. 
First he laughed, then swallowed suspiciously, and as 
he finished it threw it on the table again and rubbed 
the back of his hand across his eyes as if troubled with 
dimness of vision. 

** Pshaw,” he said, “ if I had a love letter like that—” 
and then he was silent. 

“ Fair play !” cried one of the others with an uneasy 
laugh. 

“I’ll read it to you, boys,” said their friend, seeing 
they made no move to take it, “ and I think you’ll agree 
with me that it is a model love letter.” 


O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


552 

And this is what he read : 

Mi owen deer Pa Pa—I sa mi PRairs every nite 
annd Wen I kis yure Pict-ure I ASK god to bless yoo 
gOOd bi Pa Pa yure best gurl. Dolly. 

For a moment or two the company remained silent, 
while the little letter passed from hand to hand, and 
you would have said that every one had hay fever by 
the snuffling that was heard. Then Hardy jumped to 
his feet : 

“ Three cheers for Dolly, and three cheers more for 
Dick's best girl.” 

They were given with a will.— Detroit Free Press . 


FENNIMORE’S FUN. 

Nearly every one in Columbus is acquainted with Mr. 
Jno. C. Fennimore, the tea salesman for a large New 
York house. If you have not the pleasure of his acquaint¬ 
ance, hustle around and make it, for not a better- 
hearted man exists, and among his fellow travelers he is 
known as the wittiest and best story-teller on the road. 

John gets a party around him and tells them stories in 
French, Irish, Spanish, Italian and Volapuk, and his 
audience convulsed in laughter, at which time he calmly 
sits figuring profit on teas, or speculating on a possible 
advance in coffees. But last Monday, January 14th, 
1889, the genial John came very near telling his last 
story, and passing into the sweet by-and-by, subse¬ 
quently to join the angel choir and tread the golden 
streets. On a train leaving the city on the afore-men¬ 
tioned day, was seated this man of samples seeking 



*53 


With Gripsack . 

whom he might devour—in a business way. Two seats 
were turned together, and he was entertaining his friend 
Moorhead, the Ivory Soap man from Cincinnati “ with 
tales of field and flood,” when the train pulled up to a 
crossing and “ twenty minutes for dinner,” was called, 
when both left the car in the midst of the story, to be 
completed at the table. Now John is no common story 
teller who goes on at random, but one who illustrates 
his story with gestures, and who brings before your 
imagination the very party of the third party. In the 
course of this yarn it was necessary to hold sip his hand, 
whistle and beckon to the creature of his imagination. 
As he did this it happened that the girl who was wait¬ 
ing on the table was in direct line of his call. She 
came bounding in, boiling with rage after the manner, 
as she supposed, he had taken to summon her presence. 
John saw his mistake, colored up, actual fact, though 
this point will be doubted by readers who know him, and 
stammered out, “I beg your pardon, ma’am; I really 
beg your pardon ; I—I—I meant no offense, I assure you ; 
I—I—I was not calling you. Oh, confound it, I was telling 
this gentleman a story, and was, was, was sort of illus¬ 
trating it, you know.” 

All this time the girl was standing over him in a 
towering rage, as this way of addressing her was partic¬ 
ularly obnoxious to her. 

Nothing but the hearty, ringing laugh of Thompson, 
the conductor, and others who saw John’s discomfort, 
saved him from an early grave and a job at pushing 
clouds. Well, the story was never finished. John got 
up with his dinner half eaten, sought the society of the 
smoker and a Wheeling stogie, and denied himself to 
his friend the balance of the trip. He now walks along 
the street with a sad and downcast look—and his sam- 


*54 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


pies—and he swears if any one wants him to tell another 
story they will have to get inside of a safe. His yonng^ 
happy life is blighted, his old cheerfulness gone, and 
it is to be hoped none of the readers of this will ever ask 
him to relate the story of his first trip, or a leaf from his 
life as a drummer. 


A TRAVELING MAN TALKS. 

In your last number, some one, either a merchant or 
jobber who employs traveling men, gives the boys a 
going-over, and, thinking that turn about is fair play, I 
will try my hand at giving you a few pointers on how 
the merchant sometimes—and, I am sorry to say, very 
frequently—gives his employe a rebuff that cuts him to 
the quick. 

Many a weary drummer, tired and fagged out with all 
night travel and all day labor, on the alert for weeks at 
a stretch, and seldom off duty from daylight to dark, on 
his return to his “ house ” is met with a reception of 
such a temperature as to freeze out of his composition 
any faint ideas he may have had that there are such 
things in this world as sympathy and kind words. 
Returning from a dull trip, no matter how faithfully he 
has endeavored to secure the coveted orders, his ears 
are often assailed with taunting remarks of inattention 
to business, excessive expense account, no need for this 
outlay or that delay in making a point, questioned and 
cross-questioned as if he were on the witness stand, with 
his word doubted, his integrity impugned and his hon¬ 
esty a thing for suspicion—in fact, treated both out¬ 
wardly and inwardly as if he were a mere hireling in¬ 
stead of a trusted employe, whose brightest and best 



With Gripsack . 155 

years have been given for the benefit of the hand that 
claims to feed him. 

No matter what condition the roads may be in, or 
what is the state of his health, or the thousand little hin¬ 
drances that will arise every day to annoy, vex and mis¬ 
lead even the most thoughtful traveling man, his 
employer seems bent only on wringing from his labors the 
coveted dollars, never condescending to speak one kind 
word, or by a hearty hand-shake give evidence of the 
interest he should take in one to whom he has delegated 
tlie power of representation and the credit of his house. 
Many a poor commercial pilgrim, after an absence of 
months from the bosom of his family, needing rest, but 
seldom finding any, cannot obtain permission of his 
employer to stay in his household for two or three days 
to recuperate and to give his loved ones needed care and 
attention. No, the request is harshly denied. “We can¬ 
not afford to let you lay idle for a day. Sunday is the 
only day for you to stay at home, and we want you on 
the road Monday morning early.” These are a few of 
the unpleasantnesses which meet many a traveling man 
on his return from a long and wearisome trip. Again, 
many of the houses employing traveling men adopt such 
rigid ironclad rules, that are impossible to be obeyed, 
and which the head of the firm, when he sometimes 
takes the road on what he terms a trial trip, or prospect¬ 
ing tour, throws aside and entirely ignores. 

The dullness of trade, excessive competition, or the 
tightness of the money market, are seldom ever consid¬ 
ered, but their consequences are invariably attributed 
by many an unthinking merchant to the remissness of 
the traveling man, his inattention to business, or want 
of activity. But on the contrary, should success attend 
the journey of the commercial tourist, orders be obtained 


156 O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 

easily, greater both in number and amount than was 
anticipated, the house will take all the credit and assign 
as a reason for the success, the big stock, good styles, 
low prices, and “of such a quality that they would sell 
without the assistance ” of the tired wanderer. These 
are but few of the inconveniences and unpleasant cir¬ 
cumstances which surround a traveler’s life ; he is one 
who carries his life, as may be said, in his grip, exposed 
to dangers, disease, and even death in his wanderings 
and promiscuous lodgings. But come what may, or 
happen what will, a traveler’s life has some attractive 
qualities, and while the life blood courses freely through 
the veins in the high tide of manly strength, much pleas¬ 
ure can be evolved from the profession, but it has also 
its unrequited future and inevitable evil, for many a 
traveling man, after years of patient and unremitting 
labor, is left by his employer to meet the accumulating 
ills that follow age without assistance offered or friendly 
action given, or by words spoken in season which appear 
as apples of gold in pictures of silver, do good to both 
the giver and the receiver, and bind them together in 
ties much stronger than any written agreement. With 
such a contract the heart of the employer opens to the 
heart of the employe and hastens the time for the full 
acknowledgment of that principal and fundamental 
truth of Christianity that “ He hath made of one blood 
all nations that dwell on the face of the earth.’’— Nat. 
Com. Traveler 


HE CANCELLED THE ORDER. 

“Yes, there are few merchants that won’t buy from a 
drummer,” said a hardware man. “I know a party in 
Southeast Alabama,” continued the commercial man, as 


With Gripsack . 


*57 


he quietly returned his expense account to his side- 
pocket—“ that is the hardest man I ever tackled. He had 
sworn by all that is good and bad, that he wouldn’t 
trade with traveling men, besides he was very insulting, 
and most of the boys had quit going to see him. I 
struck his town one day, when trade was very dull, and 
I made up my mind to try him. Well, sir, as soon as I 
commenced drumming him, he insulted me. I knocked 
him down on the spot, and jumped on him, and you bet 
I got an order out of him before we got up.” 

“Took the order while you had him down ?” 

“ That’s what I did, but I didn’t send the order in.” 

“ Why not ?” 

“ Well, as I told you, I took his order while I had 
him down, and you bet I sold him regular all the way 
through ; I didn’t cut a thing—sold him the fullest bill 
of cutlery you ever saw, but just as I was about to get 
up, having slackened my hold on him to put my order 
book back in my pocket, the old fellow made a kind of 
hen-wallow movement, and before I knew what had 
happened, he had me under the bottom, and as he 
choked my tongue out he said : ‘ Since I come to think 

about it, trade is very dull, and if it is all the same with 
you, I guess you had better not ship those goods.’ After 
awhile he allowed me to put my tongue back in my 
mouth, and I told him that while I would like to send 
the goods, at the same time, if trade was dull, of course 
I would cancel the order.” 

“No, I have never been back to see him .”—Nashville 
A merican. 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


153 


“THE DRUMMER.” 

Those who think that a Drummer’s life 
Is free from hardship, toil and strife, 

Are mistaken, for lie has to go 

Through mud and rain, through sleet and snow. 

He sallies forth, gripsack in hand 
To seek for custom through the land, 

He boards the train, flings baggage down, 

You’d think him owner of the town. 

Beside a pretty girl he spies, 

A vacant seat, and forthwith tries 
To make a favorable impression 
By putting on a bland expression. 

She tries in vain to raise the sash, 

He offers, and makes “ quite a mash,” 

Then ventures winning words to speak, 

For oh ! these drummers have such cheek. 

But soon must end the gay flirtation, 

For rapidly he nears the station. 

He bows and scrapes, much ado, 

And bids the charming maid adieu. 

Then picks up gripsack, traps and things, 

And off the platform now he swings, 

Looks out for porter or a hack, 

But has to “ toat ” his own gripsack. 

At hotel he records his name, 

Competitors have done the same, 

He calls a boy to brush his clothes, 

Down-town for victims then he goes, 


With Gripsack . 


159 


First meets a customer of yore, 

To find he’d been besieged before ; 

No argument can make him buy 
He don’t want this, and that’s too high, 

But can’t resist the drummer’s will 
At last consents to buy a bill. 

He sees no chance to get release, 

And does it for the sake of peace. 

Then to the hotel back he goes, 

Such horrid fare you’d scarce suppose ; 

The beefsteak’s tough, the bread half done, 
And as for milk, they say they’ve none. 

No harder beds were ever seen, 

Or bugs more ravenous or lean. 

He cannot rest, but broken down, 

Must travel on from town to town. 

Make rich his boss, 

Who then retires, whilst he in poverty expires. 
Oh ! friends, such is a drummer’s life, 

Away from children, home and wife. 

Moral. 

Young men, who e’er you may be, 

With aspirations high, 

I’ll give you now a “ quiet tip, 

“ A pointer ” bye and bye. 

Don’t seek, I pray, a drummer’s place : 

A hard one ’tis, you bet— 

And if you follow my advice 
You’ll thank me for it yet. 


One of Them. 


i6o 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties . 


DRUMMER-GRAPHS ON DRUMMER 
PREACHERS. 

The commercial itinerants will soon furnish from 
their ranks a complete theological assortment. 

Brother Fife is not the only North Carolina drummer 
who, renouncing the gripsack, has espoused the role of 
preacher in the field of gospel work. 

Brother Fife is a Presbyterian, and about the liveliest 
blue stocking specimen I ever saw. If Bro. Fife is 
denominationally perpendicular, he, of course, has Cal- 
vinistic predilections. But, I am sure, from having 
heard him, that he pauses far short of fatalism ; preach¬ 
ing, as he does, the efficacy of Christ’s Atonement to 
all who in seeking may accept. 

The latest contribution of an evangelistic character 
from our ranks, is my old friend Ken Holmes, of Frank- 
linton, N. C. He is a well known and successful sales¬ 
man, representing Carlin & Fulton, of Baltimore. He 
receives a good salary ; and is surely in earnest when he 
relinquishes his handsome stipend, and rests his 
temporal future on the uncertain remunerations con¬ 
sequent on passing around the hat in meeting. 

A friend told me that, on last Sunday, the fifth instant, 
he heard Ken preach two good sermons ; that he stuck 
to his text, explained it satisfactorily, drew his inferences 
logically, and focalized the ramifications of thought in a 
climax forcefully convincing. Like Brother Fife, he 
has fine physique, big brain ; and, I believe, cherishes a 
hope of Heaven, with a desire to save men from hell or 
any other place where the average sinner is liable to 
“ turn up ” in the future. 

Ken has entered the Methodist ministry, and is now 


With Gripsack . 


i6i 

the Reverend Kenneth Dawson Holmes. He will make 
application to join the conference in Greenville this 
winter, and should he be admitted will take such work 
as may be assigned. 

If Ken is denominationally straight, he will, of course, 
be a free-gracer, believing in free grace and plenty of it. 
I predict that he will make a good preacher and a useful 
man in the world. May God sustain him. 

Drummers are so wont to joke that when I heard Ken 
had become the Reverend Kenneth Dawson Holmes I 
did not believe the report. But it’s so. I interviewed 
the reverend gentleman, and his assurance was con¬ 
clusive of the fact. He kindly permitted me to tran¬ 
scribe his license. 

It, in Doctor Cunninggim’s handwriting, read as 
follows : 

“ The bearer hereof, Kenneth Dawson Holmes, having 
been duly recommended, and having been examined as 
the Discipline directs by the Quarterly Conference, of 
Franklinton Circuit, of Raleigh District, of the North 
Carolina Annual Conference of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church South, is hereby authorized to preach the gospel 
according to the rules and regulations of said church. 
Signed in behalf of the Quarterly Conference. 

J. A. Cunninggim, P. E. 

W. H. P. Jenkins, Sec’y. 

Our Baptist brethren profess a modification of Calvin¬ 
ism, as popularly understood, with a limitation defining 
a line short of the extremes of Arminianism, supple¬ 
mented by the doctrine of immersion. Thousands of 
good and great men believe as Bible truth what I have 
epitomized as the faith of our Baptist friends, who have 
no written creeds. I would not be surprised if some 


162 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


good drummer should step from our ranks to proclaim 
Baptist doctrine, from the sacred desk. In view of such 
a contingency, I ask Brother Bailey, of the Biblical 
Recorder, to keep an extra pulpit on hand. 

One of the best sermons I ever heard was a discourse 
by an ex-drummer, an Episcopal clergyman, from the 
chancel of St. Mark’s church, on West Lombard street, 
Baltimore. He was graceful in the gown of a deacon and 
under the stole of a priest. His peroration was beauti¬ 
ful, with just a bit too much poetry. His pathos found 
response in sensible emotion. He made me weep. A 
fellow must step very heavily on my corns or stir my 
emotions very deeply before I spring a leak in the eyes. 
He preached a fine sermon. 

Bishop Keene, formerly of the Catholic See of Rich¬ 
mond, now Dean of the University of America, was, I 
have heard, a drummer. I never heard him preach ; 
but I listened to a lyceum discourse from him in Corpus 
Christi church, in Baltimore. He is one of the most 
scholarly orators on the continent. He was not superb, 
but, with one exception, the chastest speaker I ever 
heard. 

These ex-drummers being far apart denominationally, 
sustain my statement that a complete theological assort¬ 
ment will be furnished from the ranks of the commercial 
salesmen. 

I hope the assortment will in another world demon¬ 
strate the adaptation of variety for the consummation of 
unity, and that Brother Bill Fife, Brother Ken Holmes, 
the possible occupant of Brother Bailey’s extra pulpit, 
the clergyman in the deacon’s gown and under the stole, 
and the mitred bishop, may each, in fellowship with 
the whole, behold the faces of angels in pictures of light. 
—John R. Morris , in State Chronicle , Raleigh , JV. C. 


With Gripsack. 


163 


WHO PAYS THE BILL? 

I am Solomon Simoni, cloding man, 

I haff me a ferry fine sdore. 

I haff fourteen kommearkel men oudt on der roadt, 
Und I’fe come oudt mystelf for von more. 

Dehr drad’s so pe^wlear, idt has to be vatched, 

Or idt viggles avay like an eel. 

So Rachel is coundting der monnies at home, 

Uun vatching dat clerks do not stdeal, 

Vile I haff come oudt youst to make a shordt drip, 
Mitt my drunks filled mit samples so fine, 

(Youst vaidt dill I show you der ferry best goods 
Dot you efferhaff seen in der line !) 

But I haff discovered von ferry strange thing, 

Vicli I hardly can veil understand^ 

I haff to pay double for all dot I puy, 

As I traffle aboudt droo der landt, 

When eating or drinking in car or hotel, 

I always must pay double price ; 

If I ob jec dey deli me, “ Oh ! come off der dump ! 
Your house pays der pill.” Aind't dot nice ? 

Id's der same vay I s’pose mit dose odder fourteen 
Dot I haff got traffiing you see, 

Dhey are paying youst double fer all dot dhey get, 
Und der house pays der pill—und dot’s me. 

Ach ! Moses, but dis ish a coundry of dhiefs. 

Now vot vill I do, you suppose ? 

I’ll dake me der drain for Chaikago donight, 

And raise up der price on my clothes. 


164 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

For eadting or drinking, in car or hotel, 

I alvays must pay double price ; 

If I objec dey dell me, “ Oh ! come off der dump ! 
Your house pays der bill.” Aind't dot nice 2 

Charles Eugene Banks. 


ELLA WHEELER WILCOX’S TRIBUTE. 

First in the crowded car is he to offer— 

This traveling man, unhonored and unsung— 

The seat he paid for, to some woman young, 

Or old and wrinkled. He is first to proffer 
Something, a trifle from his samples maybe, 

To please the fancy of the crying baby. 

He lifts the window, and he drops the curtain 
For unaccustomed hands. He lends his case 
To make a bolster for a child, not certain 
But his mamma will frown him in the face. 

So anxiously some women seek for danger 
In every courteous act of every stranger. 

Well versed is he in all those ways conducive 
To comfort, where least comfort can be found. 

He turns the seat unasked, yet unobtrusive; 

His little deeds of thoughtfulness abound. 

Is glad to please you, or to have you please him, 
Yet takes it very calmly if you freeze him. 

He smoothes the Jove-like frown of the official, 

By paying the fare of one who can not pay. 

True modesty he knows from artificial; 

Will flirt, of course, if you’re inclined that way. 
And if you are, be sure that he detects you; 
And if you’re not, be sure that he respects you. 




With Gripsack. 165 

The sorrows of the moving world distress him, 

He never fails to lend what aid he can. 

A thousand hearts to-day have cause to bless him, 

This much abused, misused commercial man. 

I do not strive to cast a halo round him. 

But speak of him precisely as I’ve found him. 

This poetic picture is not in the slightest overdrawn, 
as I have cause to know from an intimate acquaintance 
and practical contact with thousands of commercial men 
during more than twenty years of my life. 

-♦- 

There came a drummer in at the Baldwin a few days 
ago, says the San Francisco Daily Examiner , all the way 
from New York. He carried five tons of samples, all at 
extra baggage cost. He has five great rooms at the 
Baldwin at which he opens up his goods. He has a clerk 
that he brings from the East, two porters hired here, and 
he travels at a cost of $30 a day. He has a salary of 
$5,000 a year and commissions amounting to as much 
more, with all expenses paid. 


Deacon—“Young man, I think I will give you an 
order, but [ much fear that you have not told the exact 
truth regarding your goods.” 

Drummer—“ Well, sir, the fact is I have not. Why, 
sir (sinking his voice to a whisper), were I to tell all the 
truth about those goods, I’d be murdered for my samples 
before I reach the next town .”—Philadelphia Inquirer. 




O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


166 


CHAPTER V. 

A PLEA FOR THE DRUMMER. 

Warmly press his jeweled flipper, 

Ask him how he fares to-day ; 

Speak to him in accents chipper, 

List to all he has to say ; 

Great the envoy from the centers, 

From the marts of every land— 

Lo, behold the drummer enters 
With his sample case in hand ! 

For you will not see him ever ; 

Some day he’ll be laid away, 

With his little yarn together 
Hidden far from light of day. 

Then remorse your peace will scatter 
If you e’er did give him pain ; 

And you’ll miss his merry chatter 
When the robins nest again. 

Harken, then, O merchant Croesus ! 

To his merry little tale ; 

Think of home joys that he misses 
In his life upon the rail ; 

Think what you would do without him 
And his grip and sample case— 

What a charm there is about him 
From his toes to smiling face. 

He it is that ever brings in 
All the latest and the best, 

Makes you buy the very things in 
Which you know you’d ne’er invest; 


With Gripsack . 


167 


Calls you “Tom ” or “Dick” or “Jimmy,” 
Tells you all the latest news ; 

If you’re not in first-rate trim, he 
Quickly drives away the blues. 

Greet him, then, with welcome cheer; 

And when his race has run, 

When at last of life he’s weary 
And his last yarn he has spun, 

Plant him ’neath the weeping willow— 

Sign of all that’s sad and meek, 

With a gripsack for a pillow 
And a rock upon his cheek. 

— N. Y. Tobacco Leaf. 


PROCTOR KNOTT’S SPLENDID SPEECH. 

On the evening of September 21st, Louisville cele¬ 
brated the commercial achievement of increasing her 
business $60,000,000 in one year, and adding forty- 
three new manufactories, employing 1,400 hands and 
bringing nearly 10,000 new population to the city within 
seven months. The occasion was a reception by the 
Commercial Club at the Louisville Hotel to the com¬ 
mercial travelers representing Louisville business houses. 
Invitations were sent to 3,000 of the fraternity, and of 
these about 500 who were not on the road responded 
with their presence. O. P. Pindell, President of the 
Travelers’ Protective Association of The United States, 
represented that organization. 

Ex-Governor J. Proctor Knott spoke to the leading 
sentiment as follows : 



O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


168 

“I trust you will believe me sincere, Mr. Chairman 
and gentlemen, when I assure you I never rose to deliver 
an address under more embarrassing circumstances in 
my life. When my excellent and esteemed friend, 
Mr. Allison, invited me to be present and participate in 
the moral, intellectual, and gastronomic exercises of 
this interesting occasion, he promised me on the honor 
of a gentleman that nothing whatever should be per¬ 
mitted to cramp my splendid genius [laughter] if I 
would only consent to make a speech. That I might 
rummage the entire universe for a theme, and hold my 
audience spell-bonnd, if I should see proper, until the 
circling ages should mark high noon on the dial plate 
of eternity. [Great laughter.] Then I noticed in Sun¬ 
day’s Courier- Journal that all the speeches of the evening 
were required to be strictly extemporaneous—redolent 
of the aroma of spontanietv, fresh as the fragrance of 
new-mown hay, delicious as the odor of the dew-moist¬ 
ened violet. [Laughter and applause.] I was delighted 
with this wise and humane regulation, for I had long 
been convinced that any speaker who should fail on 
such an occasion to i shoot from the shoulder’ should 
be shot in the neck. [Great laughter.] 

“ I determined, therefore, that I would sit down 
and write me out a first-class extemporaneous speech, 
and deliver it off-hand when my turn should come. 
[Laughter.] A speech in which I would not only ran¬ 
sack the richest treasure-houses of wisdom, but sound all 
the depths and shoals of soul-stirring and heart-rending, 
scalp-lifting eloquence [renewed laughter] one that would 
make your knotted and combined locks to part and 
each particular hair to stand on end like the fur on a 
cat’s tail when a strange dog comes into the room, 
[Great laughter.] 


With Gripsack . 


169 


The difficulty, however, was in selecting a suitable 
subject. There was a vast variety of topics upon which 
I felt fully competent to shed a perfect deluge of light, 
but I was in the predicament of the traditional donkey 
who perished heroically between two haystacks, a 
voluntary martyr to his own impartiality ; I couldn’t 
choose between them. [Roars of laughter.] To tell 
the truth, I couldn’t for the life of me think of any topic 
within the entire range of human intelligence about 
which the average commercial tourist didn’t know a 
great deal more than I did myself ; for if there is any¬ 
thing worth knowing, that estimable and wide-awake 
class of our fellow-citizens has found it out long ago, 
and don’t you fail to charge your memories with the 
fact. [Great laughter.] I did think for awhile of 
offering a few new and original suggestions in relation 
to a tariff for revenue only [roars of laughter], but upon 
reflection, I abandoned the idea. It seemed to me that 
it would be entirely unnecessary, as I was confident my 
audience would be in full accord with me on at least 
one branch of the subject, for, whatever your views 
may be with regard to the tariff, I am satisfied you 
unanimously are ‘ for revenue only.’ [Laughter and 
applause.] 

“ I concluded, therefore, to follow the example of the 
pseudo preacher mentioned in Modern Chivalry, who 
announced to his congregation on rising to deliver his 
trial sermon, that he would not take any particular text, 
but just preach up and down in the Scriptures where- 
ever he could find words of seasonable doctrine—[laugh¬ 
ter]. 

“And right here I think I had better pause and sub¬ 
mit a profound observation or two upon an important 
but vexed question of terminology. Desiring to be a§ 


170 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


elegant as possible in my diction, I alluded awhile ago 
to the excellent gentlemen in whose honor this entertain¬ 
ment is given, as commercial tourists. But I don’t like 
the term as there applied. In one sense it is accurate 
enough, perhaps ; but beyond the mere fact that he 
generally confines his travels to a prescribed circuit, the 
word * tourist ’ conveys no definite idea of the vocation 
or the characteristics of the active, energetic, intelligent, 
pushing pioneer of trade who braves the vicissitudes of 
the seasons and challenges the perils of flood and field 
for the love of his arduous calling. It is equally as 
appropriate to the overworked man of business who 
seeks surcease of toil in an excursion beyond the seas, 
or to the indolent dawdler who follows the beaten paths 
of travel simply to escape the pangs of ennui which prey 
upon him in his luxurious home. It suggests nothing 
beyond mere locomotion in a circle. 

“ For the same reason I object to the term commercial 
‘traveler,’ which my friends, ‘the Chairman and Mr. 
McDermott,’ employed in their elegant and instructive 
address to which you have just listened. It is too inde¬ 
finite and inconclusive. Commercial ‘Evangelist’ 
strikes me as far more significant and appropriate. 
[Laughter.] 

“ Especially in view of the modern acceptation of that 
word—the avant courier of Christian civilization, who 
puts aside the endearments of home and family and goes 
bravely out into the world of his Master’s work, defying 
discomfort, disease, danger, and death. 

“ I make no point on the well-known, characteristic 
piety of the Knight Errant of Trade, which of itself 
might give him a colorable claim to the title of evangel¬ 
ist [laughter], but I hold that next to the blessed 
religion of our Divine Saviour, the most potent of all 


With Gripsack . 


171 

the promoters of human civilization is Commerce. It 
ministers to our wants, multiplies our comforts, gratifies 
our tastes, enlarges our intelligence, increases our enjoy¬ 
ments, elevates our natures and prepares the way for 
the gospel peace—peace on earth and good will to 
men. [Applause.] It disregards alike the heat of the 
tropics and the snows of the frigid zones. It dares the 
night and tempests of the trackless sea ; it spans the 
raging torrent; it brushes the mountain out of its way ; 
it changes the wilderness into the teeming field, and 
rears the stately palace in place of the squalid hovel. 
The school bell beats time to its steady march, and the 
church spire springs up in its pathway. [Great 
applause.] Why should not the forerunners of an 
agency so beneficent and sublime be termed ‘ evangel¬ 
ists ?’ [Renewed applause.] 

“Of course the old name ‘ Bagmen ’ is utterly out of 
the question. It is not to be thought of. It might have 
been well enough a hundred years ago, when the 
exigencies of the craft required nothing more capacious 
than an ordinary grip-sack, but how singularly inappro¬ 
priate it would be now, when each member sets out 
equipped with three or four iron-bound, steel-clad 
sample-cases as big as the hull of an old-fashioned, 
square-rigged, high-pooped man-of-war. [Laughter.] 

“ Still, I can’t help confessing to a certain tenderness 
for the old term—‘ Bagman.’ I have had a sort of 
fondness for it ever since I was a small boy, when I saw 
Tom Smart, in ‘ Pickwick,’ with his clay-colored gig, 
with red wheels, and his vixenish bay mare braving the 
blasts of the stormy night, and watched him while he 
drank his five tumblers of hot punch in the snug parlor 
of that cosy wayside inn, speculating on what he would 
do when he married the widow. [Great laughter.] 


172 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


Jolly Tom Smart !—he has always been to me the typi¬ 
cal drummer. 

“ By the way, why not, after all, stick to that good 
old-fashioned, suggestive word ‘drummer?’ Tourist, 
traveler, or evangelist may be more euphonious, but I 
prefer ‘ the drummer' to any of them. It is such a 
hale, hearty old word ; so suggestive of energy, courage 
and manhood. 

“Are not our friends always in the van of the all-con¬ 
quering Army of Commerce ? Do they not always lead 
its resistless march ! Does not their rattling reveille 
wake its mighty hosts to action ? Do not they mark the 
weary steps of the toilsome march ? Does not their long 
call give warning of the slightest approach of danger ? 

“And then it fits the mouth of the rural landlady so 
well. [Laughter.] How handy it is for her to say : 

‘ You, Angeline, come here and brush the flies offen 
the sass and pass it to the Drummer.’ [Renewed laugh¬ 
ter.] How delightful to hear her pipe out in the wee 
sma’ hours ayont the twal, ‘ Somanthy Ann ! hain’t you 
an’ that drummer through with yer sparkin’ yet?’ 
[Roars of laughter.] 

“ But tourists, travelers, evangelists or drummers—call 
them what you will—I like the craft. I have met 
them many a time and oft during my wanderings for 
the last twenty years, and have always found them a 
genial, whole-souled set of fellows, as well as intelligent, 
energetic, honorable business men. [Applause.] 

“In fact, I have been with them so much I ‘ know 
them by their backs.’ [Laughter.] Do you see that 
fellow curled up on the car-seat there, sound asleep, 
unmindful of the roar of the train, the yell of the brake- 
man, or the ingress or egress of the passengers ? H§ 


173 


With Gripsack . 

is a drummer. He rode forty miles last night, through 
wind and rain and mud to make his point, and he made 
it. [Laughter.] 

“That debonair young man who is helping that poor 
tired-looking lady with her numberless bundles and her 
sick baby, he’s a drummer, too. [Applause.] And the 
bright, jovial-faced youngster, who is rising to give that 
venerable old gentleman his seat, is a drummer also. 
And so are those four fellows at the rear end of the car, 
who are amusing each other and everybody around them 
with their flashes of wit and humorous stories. They 
are all drummers ; the closest observers and the most 
entertaining narrators of curious and interesting facts in 
the world. It has been one of the leading characteris¬ 
tics of the commercial traveler, from Sinbad the 
Sailor —the great prototype of the profession—down to 
my genial and esteemed friend, Joseph Mulhatton, who, 
in that particular, at least, is said to be far more gifted 
than the illustrious Father of his Country. [Great 
laughter.] 

“ I am glad to meet so many of them here to-night; 
to welcome them back from their late campaign, and to 
wish them a hearty God-speed in all they may under¬ 
take in future. [Great applause.] They are engaged 
in a grand and glorious work—more important, perhaps, 
than they have hitherto realized themselves—the work 
of pushing forward the prosperity of this splendid 
metropolis. It is a work in which I have long felt the 
profoundest interest, for although not a citizen or prop¬ 
erty-holder of Louisville myself, I realize the patent fact 
that her prosperity is the prosperity of the Common¬ 
wealth. 

“ I repeat, therefore, Hail and God-speed the drum¬ 
mer ! May he always find friends as cordial and whole- 


174 O'er Rail and Cross‘Ties 

hearted as those who greet him here to-night, and may 
his fare never be worse than what I think he will find in 
the next room.” [Prolonged applause.] 


THE DRUMMER AS HE IS. 

Who roams in freedom o’er the land, 

With cheek of brass and smile so bland 
Nor maid nor merchant can withstand ? 

The Drummer! 

Who cheers the lonely traveler’s ways, 
And guileless games of Poker plays, 

And sees a deacon’s modest “ raise ”? 

The Drummer! 

Who seats himself in front of dish, 

While o’er his shoulder floats the wish 
That he will try the “ SOUPERFISH ”? 

The Drummer ! 

Who tucks his napkin to his throat. 

And thinks of hardships now remote. 
While roasts and stews before him float ? 

The Drummer ! 

Who lives as only good men should, 
Makes Famine reign where Plenty stood, 
And still is offered “ Pie-er-Pud ”? 

The Drummer ! 

Who tells the tales Joe Goodwin built, 
The yarns that make Boccaccio wilt, 

That, though not gold, are largely guilt ? 

The Drummer ! 



With Gripsack . 


l 75 

Who casts his coy and bashful gaze 
Where e’er the light of beauty plays, 

And walks in all Love’s devious ways ? 

The Drummer ! 

Who eloquently can explain, 

To wife, who must at home remain, 

How she from flirting must refrain ? 

The Drummer ! 

Who fails to practice “ all the same,” 

A law, which, shielding her from blame, 

Makes life for him a trifle tame ? 

The Drummer ! 

Who, though his faults be grievous, too, 

Has virtues bright and none too few, 

And to himself is mainly true ? 

The Drummer ! 

Whose heart is open to the prayer 
Of sore distress or deep despair, 

Whose charity is everywhere ? 

The Drummer ! 

Who loyal is to every trust, 

Takes sweet abuse—because he must, 

And not because the censure’s just? 

The Drummer ! 

Who “ hustles” in the realms of trade, 

And meets with courage undismayed, 

The card his sharp opponent played ? 

The Drummer ! 


i 76 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

Who strives with all his might and main 
His house’s prestige to maintain, 

And their “ small profits” still to gain ? 

The Drummer ! 

By Geo. L. Knight. 


“WHO TURN DAT HOG LOOSE?” 

The Merchant Traveler gets off the following: 

At a certain hotel in Peoria, where the meals were not 
always what they should be, a merchant traveler one 
day sat down to the table. He put a dollar under a 
tumbler, and calling the waiter, said: 

“ Do you see that dollar, Jim ?” 

“ Yas sar,” replied Jim with a grin. 

“ Well now, Jim, I want you to get me a real good first 
class dinner. You understand ?” 

“Yas sar,” and Jim sat about furnishing a dinner fit 
for a king. He had no time to see any one else. He 
hunted up new dishes, and put extra touches on every¬ 
thing, and kept his eye on the dollar. Finally, the 
merchant traveler finished, and, wiping his mouth, he 
winked at Jim. 

“Yas sar,” grinned the darkey with anticipation. 

“Jim, you see that dollar?” putting his hand out in a 
generous way 

“ Yas sar.” 

“Well, you will never see it again,’ and it went into 
his pocket, and out of the dining-room, while Jim indig¬ 
nantly remarked: 

“’Fo’ de Lawd, who turn dat hog loose in heah!” 



With Gripsack . 


177 


HE HAD CHEEK. 

“ May I have this seat ?” she asked of the genteel 
looking man whose baggage was occupying it. 

“ I don’t know, ma’am,” he answered, “it belongs to 
the railroad, you know; but I’ll see the conductor, maybe 
he will give it to you.” 

She grew purple and said: 

“You don’t understand me. I mean, can I take it?” 

“ Well, I don’t know that, either. You see it is fastened 
very firmly to the car floor, and would be troublesome 
to get up—however, I’ll have a carpenter to come on 
board at the next station, and ask his advice.” 

“ I don’t want to take the old thing,” she howled. 
“Is this your trap on it?” 

“No’m,” blandly answered the drummer; “it belongs 
to the firm I travel for.” 

“ Well, can I sit down here ?” she finally screamed, 
shifting from one foot to the other. 

“ I don’t know, ma'am, you are the best judge of your 
physical powers.” 

“ And where do you travel from?” she yelled. 

“ Chicago,” he replied. 

“That settles it,” she said meekly. “Will you please 
move your valise, and permit me to occupy a small 
portion of this seat ?” 

“Certainly,” he replied, “why didn’t you say that at 
first ?” 

The train sped on, while he sat counting his expenses, 
and she wondering if Chicago’s Cheek had any equal 
under the sun .—Atlanta Constitution . 


i;8 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


THIS CEASELESS CLATTER. 

To buy or not to buy, that is the question. 

Whether ’tis nobler for a man to suffer 
The ceaseless clatter of a drummer’s tongue, 

Or in self defense use extremest means, 

And with an order quiet him. To order—to try 
Once more, and by chance, to say we get 
The goods that we do buy. ’Tis a consummation 
Devoutly to be wished. To buy—to pay; 

To pay! perchance to fail; aye, there’s the rub 
For in that lapse of time, what bills may come, 

Too often, and too large: must give us pause— 

There is respect that makes trading of so long a life: 

For who would bear the “date ahead” and “four 
months ” time, 

The heavy expense, the landlord's punctuality, 

The excessive freights, the lights and coal, 

The insolence of customers, and the aged stories 
The merchant from the drummer takes. 

When he himself might all this avoid, 

By simply assigning ? Who would such trials bear, 

To grunt and sweat around a general store, 

But that the dread of something worse— 

The doubtful result of making a change—puzzles the will 
And makes us rather cleave to the business we have, 
Than fly to others that we know not of! 

Thus drummers do make cowards of us all; 

And thus what little is left of resolution, 

Is sickbed o’er by the persuader’s talk; 

And from offers of “spot cash ” bargains, 

Not having the means we are obliged to turn away, 

To meet the notes accruing. 


With Gripsack . 


*79 


WHAT THEY SPEND. 

Some idea of the present expenses of commercial 
travelers, and their expenditures may be gathered from 
the following statement published about ten years ago 
by the Traveler's Weekly. The number of drummers now 
on the road is estimated at more than triple that given 
in the Traveler s Weekly , which says: 

“Do you know that there are about80,000 commercial 
travelers in the United States? Surprised to hear it? 
Yes: most people are when they hear it, but it is a fact 
nevertheless. You may also be surprised to learn, that 
each one of them spends on an average $3000.00 a year, 
or a total of $240,000.00. 

“ If you add to this their salaries, averaging at least 
$1000.00 per year, you have a total expenditure of 
$320,000.00 by commercial travelers a year. This is 
naturally spent in all parts of the country, but the hotels 
and the railroads get the lion’s share of it. 

During the last year there has been a great change. 
It does not pay now to send out any but the most stead¬ 
fast and reliable business men. On the other hand the 
travelers’ remuneration is much better than formerly, 
salaries from $3000.00 to $6000.00 being by no means 
infrequent. 


SHORT STORIES. 

The commercial traveler’s little daughter had been 
taught always to conclude her little prayer with these 
words : 

“ God bless papa, and bring him safely home Saturday 
night.” 

One week he came home Friday, and that night he 



180 O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 

heard the infantile petition solemnly rendered, but with 
the following startling philosophic addition : 

“Chestnuts, Lord ! He’s here now !”—Westboro Tri¬ 
bune. 


A party of Commercial Travelers resting over New 
Year’s were seated in the corridor of a leading hotel one 
morning, discussing the characteristics of the different 
towns they visit. Said one : “ The meanest town in the 
west is in northern Kansas. While I was there last month 
they found the dead body of an unknown man in the 
streets. In his pockets were $100 and a revolver. Instead 
of taking the money and giving him a decent burial, they 
arraigned him under the name of Richard Roe, fined 
him the$ioo for carrying concealed weapons, aud buried 
him in the potter’s field in an old pine box .”—Kansas 
City Star. 


Head of the Firm—Mr. Perambulator, what is the 
meaning of this item, “Funeral expenses $24,” in your 
expense account ? 

Traveling Man—That was the cost of burying my sor¬ 
row when I learned that Thin, Skin & Co. had a day 
before given a heavy order to one of our competitors.— 

Jewelers' Weekly. 


Just as a Commercial Traveler was writing his name 
on the register of a Leavenworth hotel, a bed-bug ap¬ 
peared and took its way across the page. The man 
paused and remarked % 

“ I’ve been bled by St> Joe fleas, bitten by Kansas City 
spiders, and interviewed by Ft. Scott graybacks ; but I’ll 






With Gripsack. 


181 


be darned if I was ever in a place before where the bed¬ 
bugs looked over the hotel register to find out where 
your room was !”—The Hustler. 


Did you ever notice when a merchant failed how many 
smart drummers were on the road ? You often hear the 
remark : “ He didn’t catch me. I was too smart for that 

fellow. I knew he was going to fail, so I stood from 
under.” You can generally put it down that this self¬ 
same drummer had been trying to sell the merchant for 
years, and the only reason he was not caught was the 
merchant wouldn’t buy from him .—Coinmercial Traveler . 


Salesman—I suppose you will allow me to sell Broke, 
Up & Co ? 

Principal—I’m somewhat afraid of their credit, Mr. 
Valisse. 

Salesman—But you know they failed a year ago and 
settled at ten cents. 

Principal—is that so ? Then they must have money. 
Sell them all you can .—Michigan Tradesman. 


An Indiana girl offered her heart, hand and $3,000,000 
to a Chicago drummer, supposing him to be a single 
man. When he realized that lie had a red-headed wiie 
and seven children at home, with not the slightest excuse 
for a divorce, he leaned over the railing of a bridge 
across a creek and let his sad tears mingle with the bab* 
bling waters .—Detroit Free Press f 





182 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


MASTERPIECES OF THE WORLD’S ARCH 
DISTORTER OF THE TRUTH. 

Five or six years ago the newspapers published a 
remarkable story about a Kentucky farmer who had 
imported a ship-load of monkeys from Africa and had 
trained them to pick hemp. The monkeys required 
little care in their keeping, received no pay, and did 
their work so well that the farmer discharged nearly 
every man in his employ, determined to import a thou¬ 
sand more monkeys, and looked forward with joy and 
confidence to the time when, owing to the low cost’of 
his labor, he would obtain a practical monopoly of the 
business of growing hemp, and would become one of 
the richest men in the South. Then the story went on 
to say that the Knights of Labor of Kentucky had 
become terribly excited over the affair, that they had 
denounced the importation of monkey labor from Africa 
as being worse than the importation of pauper labor 
from Europe, and that a strike would certainly occur 
and there might be riots and bloodshed, unless the 
entire monkey business was stopped. 

This yarn was told in such an ingenious way that 
many people believed it. But the wary veterans among 
newspaper readers regarded it as the work of a colossal 
liar. It was not long before Joe Mulhatton, a commer¬ 
cial traveler, was known to be the man who started the 
story on its rounds. Then everybody knew that it was 
a lie. This story is called to mind by the dispatch from 
Chicago, saying that Mulhatton was found wandering 
about the streets in a dazed condition and is now locked 
up in tiie Detention Hospital for the Insane. 

Mulhatton was born in Allegheny City, Pa., 43 years 


With Gripsack . 


183 

ago, and has been on the road as a commercial traveler 
for 15 or 20 years. In business affairs he has been 
regarded as honest and conscientious. His home is in 
Louisville and he belongs to the Baptist church. For 
many years his constant aim has been to startle the 
world with remarkable stories of “fakes," as such pro¬ 
ductions are known in newspaper offices. In telling 
lies of a plausible and yet a remarkable character, Mul- 
hatton found almost his sole enjoyment in life. Some 
men devote their attention to billiards after business 
hours, others to horses, others to cards, to theatres, to 
literature, and so on ; but Mulhatton’s weakness was for 
the strange and marvelous, and in the course of time he 
became known as the Champion Liar of America, the 
Monarch of Mendacity. His name and his stories 
appeared in all the newspapers, he became famous for 
outlandish inventions, and in 1884, the commercial 
travelers, desiring to do him honor, nominated him for 
President against Ben Butler and Belva Lockwood, and 
then forgot to vote for him. 

Three years ago, in the Louisville Courier-Journal , 
was printed a dispatch from Atlanta, Ga., telling about 
the remarkable experience of a gentleman who had just 
returned from a visit to the central part of Alabama. 
On one occasion, while in the country, he saw a man 
driving 10 or 12 geese toward a cotton patch. Here is 
the story of what followed : 

“What is that you have on the necks of those geese ?'* 
said I. 

“ Those are gourds full of water. I drive the geese 
into that cotton patch and keep them there all day 
weeding out the cotton. There is no water in the 
cotton patch, and I have to give them water, and this is 
the way to keep them there. Those geese will weed out 


184 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


more cotton in a day than two people would. They will 
eat the grass and weeds, but they won’t touch the 
cotton.” 

“But how do they get water out of those gourds 
under their necks ?” 

“ They drink out of each other’s gourd. Each gourd 
has an opening in the side, so that another goose can 
put his bill into the gourd and drink. If you will stay 
here long enough you will see for yourself.” 

I waited there half a day to see that performance, and 
finally saw it. The geese did just the same as the man 
said they would. When a goose got thirsty, he walked 
up to his neighbor and coolly drank out of the gourd on 
his neck. 

When asked if he had yet made a crop with the help 
of the geese, he replied that he had made a small crop 
last year, but only had a limited number of geese, as he 
was only experimenting. This year he had over a hun¬ 
dred geese in harness, and they have succeeded in keep¬ 
ing his crops cleaned out so far. He had a hundred 
acres under cultivation,, and says he will make the best 
crop he has ever made. When asked how he came to 
think of using the geese as farm hands, he replied that 
two years ago he had a small patch of cotton near his 
house. In this patch the geese raised about his yard 
were allowed to run. He noticed that the cotton had 
little or no grass and no weeds at all, and he began to 
watch the geese. He found that they ate every weed 
and every blade of grass, but they did not touch the 
cotton. Finding how valuable they were for his pur¬ 
pose, he resolved to try them on a larger scale, and is 
delighted with his experiment. His neighbors have 
paid close attention to the matter, and next year they 


With Gripsack . 185 

will start a number of geese in harness in their cotton 
crops. 

The dispatch concluded with the prediction that “if 
the farmer’s experiment is as successful as he thinks it 
will be, it is only a question of a few years until the 
whole cotton crop of Alabama will be weeded out by 
the ordinary goose.” This was another of Joe Mulhat- 
ton’s stories, and it went the rounds, amusing the wise, 
and deceiving the credulous. 

Mulhatton’s earliest attempts at “fakes” dealt with 
wonderful caves in Kentucky, full of bones of prehistoric 
men and animals. Once he wrote how oil wells of 
extraordinary capacity had been drilled near Glasgow 
Junction, Kentucky. This lie was very deceptive, and 
many prospectors and scientists hurried off to Kentucky 
to make investigations. Another of Mulhatton’s inven¬ 
tions was in regard to a meteor that fell in Texas. It 
was big enough to cover an acre of ground and bored a 
tremendous hole in the earth. 

Mulhatton has been engaged also with preparing the 
dispatch from Chihuahua, Mexico, dated April 22, 1889, 
that was published in the St. Louis Globe-Democrat. 
This was a story of a tree that devoured birds. To 
begin with, there was a detailed description of how the 
narrator studied botany and made long trips into the 
mountains, looking for specimens. Finally the tree in 
question was discovered. It was something like the 
“weeping-willow,” but the long, drooping, whip-like 
limbs are of a dark and apparently simple appearance, 
and seemed possessed of a horrible, life-like power of 
coiling and uncoiling. 

One day the observer saw a bird settle on the top of 
a tree. “The branches immediately began to awaken 
and curl upward. They twined and twisted like snakes 


186 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

about the bird, which began to scream, and drew it 
down in their fearful embrace until I lost sight of it.” 
Under the tree was a sort of cave which the explorer 
discovered by accident. “I enlarged the hole,” says the 
liar, “and then pushed my way up through the passage. 
When I had nearly reached the top I looked out cau¬ 
tiously to see if I should emerge within reach of that 
diabolical tree. But I found it nowhere near the aper¬ 
ture, so I sprang out. I was just in time to see the 
flattened carcass of the bird drop to the ground, which 
was covered with bones and feathers.” The next day 
the explorer got half a dozen chickens and threw them 
into the tree. “The moment I tossed in the fowls,” he 
says, “a violent agitation shook its branches, which 
swayed to and fro with a sinuous, shaky motion. After 
devouring the fowls, these branches, fully gorged, 
dropped to their former position, and the tree giving no 
signs of animation, I dared approach it and take the 
limbs in my hand. They were covered with suckers, 
resembling the tentacles of an octopus. The blood of 
the fowls had been absorbed by the suckers, leaving 
crimson stains on the dark surface.” 

The dispatch concluded with an account of how the 
explorer wrote of his discovery to Prof. Woldenhaupt 
of the University of Heidelberg, who replied that the 
tree was the arbor dragoli, only two specimens of which 
had been known to science, one growing on a peak of 
the Himalayas and the other on the Island of Sumatra. 


With Gripsack . 


187 


A TRUE STORY ABOUT A SLOW TRAIN. 

“Speaking of railroads," said the candy pilgrim, as he 
turned a car seat, and slowly divested himself of his 
duster, “ reminds me of one in Kentucky. The only 
way you can tell the direction the train is running, is by 
the way the seats are turned. I was on that train one 
day last winter, going from Russellville out to Adams- 
ville, a distance of only twelve miles. On the train was 
a clothing man who was fretting considerably about the 
slow time. Finally he conclnded he couldn’t stand it 
any longer, and he got out and walked. He got so 
far in advance that he thought the train had gone back, 
so he sat down to wait for it. The exercise he had taken 
had exhausted him very much, and before he knew what 
he had done, he had keeled over and gone sound asleep 
between the rails. 

About 9 o’clock that night the passengers and officers 
v of that road were startled by the continuous blowing 
of the whistle and the cries of some one in pain, and 
deep distress. We immediately went forward, and 
found to our horror that the train was slowly but 
surely passing over the prostrate form of our clothing 
man. The brave engineer whistled down brakes, and 
made a heroic effort to reverse the engine, but alas ! she 
would not reverse worth a cent. It seemed that this 
was the first live thing the train had ever caught, and 
that it intended to run over this man, if it took all the 
winter. It had passed now, over his feet, and the 
engineer said if she continued to make schedule time 
and the water got too low in the boiler, it would proba¬ 
bly arrive at his knees about midnight. The poor fel- 


188 


O' er Rail and Cross-Ties 


low seemed to appreciate the fact that death would 
sooner or later occur. 

He called for pencil and paper, and there by the dim 
light of the conductor’s lantern, the dying traveler wrote 
his will, and prepared to take his trip to that land where 
“sorrows never live ” and the hotels don’t charge drum¬ 
mers fifty cents more for a meal than they do farmers. He 
also wrote to his house. But when he called for more 
paper and said he wanted to write to a girl, there wasn’t 
a dry eye in that vast assembly. Old men wept and 
women fairly howled. This sentiment seemed to strike 
a tender place in the heart of the murderous engine, and 
the mute head in the boiler actually wept—while a little 
bull’s-eye lantern on the brakeman’s arm shed tears as 
large as wild goose plums. He did the square thing by 
the girl and don’t you forget it. He willed her his 
insurance policy and transferred it right there, but she 
never got a cent.” 

“ Transfer not properly made,” suggested a bystander 
—a hardware man. 


THE LEGEND OF THE DRUMMUH. 

Thus speaketh Robert Burdette : 

It was during the reign of the good Caliph, when 
Abou Tamerlik came to the city of Bagdad, threw his 
gripsack on the counter, and as he registered, spake 
cheerfully unto the clerk, saying : 

“ A sample room on the first floor, and send my keyster 
up right away, and call me for the 6.28 train east in the 
morning.” 

And Basler el Jab, the clerk, looked not at him, but 
went away to the mirror and gazed at his new diamond. 



With Gripsack . 

And Abou Tamerlik hied him forth and went into the 
booths and bazars, and laid hold upon the merchants 
and enticed them into his room and spread out his sam¬ 
ples and besought them to buy. And when night was 
come he slept. Because, he said, it is a dead town and 
there is no place to go. 

And before the second watch of the night, Rhumul em 
Uhp, the porter, smote on the panels of his door and 
cried aloud : 

“ Oh, Abou Tamerlik, arise and dress, for it is train 
time.” 

And Abou arose and girt his raiment about him, and 
hastened down stairs and crept into the ’bus. 

And he marveled that he was so sleepy, because he 
knew that he went to bed exceedingly early, and mar¬ 
velously sober. 

And when they got to the depot, lo, it was the mail 
west, and it was 10.25 p. m. 

And Abou Tamerlik swore and reached for the por¬ 
ter, that he might smite him, and he said unto him : 

“ Carry me back to my own room and see that thou 
call me at 6.28 a. m., or thou diest.” 

And ere he had been asleep even until the midnight 
watch, Rhumul em Uhp smote again upon the panels 
of his door and cried aloud : 

“ Awake, Abou Tamerlik, for the time waneth, and 
the train stayeth for no man. Awake and haste, for 
slumber overtook thy servant, and the way is long and 
the 'bus gone.” 

And Abou Tamerlik arose and dressed, and girded up 
his loins, and set forth with great speed, for his heart 
was anxious. Nevertheless, he gave Rhumul em Uph 
a quarter and made him carry his grip, and he cursed 
him for a driveling laggard. 


190 O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 

And when they had come to the train it was 11.46 
p. m., and it was a way freight going south. 

And Abou Tamerlik fell upon Rhumul em Uhp and 
smote him and entreated him roughly, and said : 

“ Oh, pale gray ass of all asses, the Prophet pity thee 
if thou callest me once more before the 6.28 a. m. 
east.” 

And he got him into his bed. 

Now, when sleep fell heavily upon Abou Tamerlik, 
for he was sore discouraged, Rhumul em Uhp kicked 
fiercely against the panels of his door, and said : 

“ Oh, Abou Tamerlik the drummah, awake and dress 
with speed. It is night in the valleys, but the day 
star shines on the mountains. Truly thy train is even 
now due at the depot, but the ’bus is indeed gone.” 

And Abou Tamerlik, the drummer, swore himself 
awake and put on his robes and hastened to the depot, 
while Rhumul em Uhp, the porter, went before with a 
lantern. 

For it was pitch dark and raining like a house a-fire. 

And when they reached the depot it was a gravel 
train going west, and the clock in the steeple tolled 

2 A. M. 

And Abou Tamerlik fell upon Rhumul em Uhp, the 
porter, and beat him all the way home, and pelted him 
with mud, and broke his lantern and cursed him. 

And he got him to bed and slept. 

Now, when Abou Tamerlik awoke the sun was high 
and the noise of the street car rattled in the street. 
And his heart smote him and he went down stairs, and 
the clerk said to him : 

“Oh, Abou Tamerlik, live in peace. It is too late for 
breakfast and too early for dinner, nevertheless, it won’t 
make any difference in the bill.” 


With Gripsack . 


191 

And Abou Tamerlik, the drummuli, sought Rhumul 
em Uhp, the porter, and caught him by the beard, and 
said unto him : 

“Oh, chuck el edded pup! (which is, ‘ Thou that 
sleepest at train time,’) why hast thou forgotten me ?” 

And Rhumul em Uhp was angry, and said : 

“Oh, Abou Tamerlik, the drummuh, hasty in speech 
and slow to think, wherefore shouldst thou get up at 
daybreak, when there is another train goes the same 
way to-morrow morning?’* 

But Abou Tamerlik would not hearken unto him, but 
paid his bill and hired a team and a man to take him to 
the next town. And he hired the team at the livery 
stable, and he cursed the house that he put up at. 

Now, the livery stable belonged to the landlord all 
the same. But Abou Tamerlik, the drummuh, wist not 
that it was so .—Burlington Hawkeye. 


HE PAID AS USUAL. 

The commercial traveler of a Philadelphia House, 
while in Tennessee, approached a stranger as the train 
was about to start and said : 

“ Are you going on this train ?” 

“I am.” 

“ Have you any baggage ?’* 

“ No.” 

“Well, my friend, you can do me a favor and it won’t 
cost you anything. You see I have two rousing big 
trunks, and they always make me pay extra for one of 
them. You can get one checked on your ticket and we 
will euchre them. See?” 

“Yes, but I haven’t any ticket.” 

“ But I thought you said you were going on this train ?” 



192 


O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


“So I am. I am the conductor.” 

“ oh r 

He paid extra as usual. 


. -♦- 

THE RIVAL DRUMMERS. 

It was two rival drummers 
The merits that did blow 
Of safes were in St. Louis made 
And safes from Chicago. 

They chanced upon a merchant 
Who fain a safe would buy, 

And in the praise of their houses’ wares 
The drummers twain did vie, 

Each striving to see which could construct 
The most colossal lie. 

Out spake the St. Louis drummer : 

“ Once a man a cat did take, 

And locked the animal in a safe 
Of our superior make. 

“They made a bonfire round the safe 
With tar and kerosene, 

And for four-and-twenty hours it blazed 
With raging heat, I ween. 

“ The fire went out, the safe was cooled, 
And I will forfeit five 
Hundred good dollars if that cat 
Did not come out alive.” 

Then mild upspake and answered him 
The Chicago safe-agent : 

“ With our safe one day we did essay 
The same experiment. 



With Gripsack . 


193 


“ We placed the safe selected on 
Of coals a fiery bed, 

And pitch-pine we heaped in coal oil steeped 
Till the iron glowed bright red ; 

And in forty-eight hours we ope’d the safe, 
And, alas ! the cat was dead !” 

“ Was dead ? Aha !'* his rival cried, 

With a triumphant breath ; 

But the Chicago man replied 

“ Yes ; the cat was frozen to death !” 

No word that St. Louis drummer spoke, 

But silent stood and wan, 

While the Kansas merchant an order gave 
To the Chicago man. 


SEND US A LETTER. 

The Hotel ’Buss from the midnight train, 
Brought only one passenger through the rain ; 
A traveling man—tired, weary and sad ; 

For he had toiled all day and trade was bad. 

Not a single order was on his book, 

The disgust he felt was shown in his look. 
With a careless hand he wrote his name, 

On a page of the book unknown to fame. 

The drowsy clerk the signature scanned, 

Then a letter placed in the drummer’s hand; 
See how he starts, while a smile of delight. 
Comes over his face at the welcome sight. 




i 9 4 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


Thus clouds of despair that will ever appear, 

To the traveling man sometimes in the year, 

Are often dispelled by such simple means ; 

As one friendly letter—how queer it seems. 

So wives, sweethearts, brothers and chums, 

If you know where we’ll be when Sunday comes. 
Write to us there, if your time will permit ; 

Draw on us at sight—and we will remit 
OUR THANKS. 


A BAD MAN TO FOOL WITH. 

The New England Druggist comes to the aid of the 
drummers, with the following good story. 

“In a certain town is a business man who is rather 
piggish, for the size of the place. If a salesman calls, 
he must send in his card to the office and humbly seek 
an audience. On one occasion, a salesman sent in his 
card by the boy and word came back that the proprietor 
wanted nothing. The salesman told the boy to return 
and ask for the card, as they cost his firm money. The 
boy soon returned, saying the proprietor had torn up 
the card, and he brought five cents to pay for it. The 
salesman quickly took two more cards out, and writing 
on the back of one—‘ My firm does a square business, 
and never takes advantage of any one. They only cost 
three for five cents,’ sent them to the proprietor.” 

Give the salesmen a fair show with generous trades¬ 
men, and there will be no just cause to regret it. They 
are an indispensable adjunct to our civilization. 



With Gripsack . 


195 


VERY CLEVERLY DONE. 

Henry Guy Carleton being unable to be present at a 
dinner given by the Commercial Travelers’ Club of New 
York, sent the following very clever note : 

“ I pen these few lines with a soul full of emotion. 
I feel that by staying away from the large, long feed, to 
which you kindly invited me, I am losing the oppor¬ 
tunity of my life to get square with the drummers. 
Dnring my long and variable career as a private citizen 
I have traveled a good deal, but I have never yet seen a 
real live drummer. I have often heard of him, but he 
has always been about ten minutes ahead of me. All the 
best rooms were occupied when I arrived, and the 
affections of the prettiest girls had been placed. I never 
got a lower berth on a train but once, and that was when 
a drummer who had got ahead of me gave it up so that 
he could offer his condolence to a poor little orphan 
girl, aged about twenty-five years, in another car, who 
was on her way to join her parents in Kankakee. I once 
paid $4.00 a day in Denver, where I was shown up to 
room 1947 on the eighth floor, with a cracked mirror, 
no soap, no towel, a packet of insect powder, and a 
bureau with no handles—while the blue-eyed drummer 
with gold filling in his front, teeth, who arrived just 
before me, got the best chamber for $2.00, with ten per 
cent, off for cash. But let this pass. I have noticed that 
drummers are always complaining of loss of appetite, 
but I have also noticed that there is seldom anything 
left after they get through but the cut glass pickle-dish, 
four corks, and the mustard. I would be a drummer 
myself but my intimate friends say I am not shy and 
retiring enough ; they also say that I talk too much,” 


A DRUMMER’S BILL OF FARE 


Drummers have tough experiences with hotels sometimes. Here 
is a burlesque bill of fare ; 

SOUP. 

Mock Herring. Sponge. Ox Ear. Cork. Whalebone. 

FISH. 

Hamilton Fish. Red Herring. Blind nerring. Scalded Herring. Cross-Eyed Herring 

COLD DISHES. 

Broken Ice. Mashed Ice. Cold Ice. Baked Ice. Hot Ice. 

Raw Iceberg. Fried Iceberg. Broiled Iceberg. Stewed Iceberg. 


ROASTS. 


Buffalo, a la Robe Sauce. 

Antelope, a la Caper Sauce. 
Gander, a la Goose Sauce. 
Elephant, a la Tusk Sauce. 

Chickens, Forty-Eight, Years old. 


Elk, a la Ham Sauce. 

Sacred Crow, a la Hoof Sauce. 
Turkey, Stuffed with Rubber Shoes. 
Goat, Stuffed with Cotton. 

Swan, Stuffed with Red Flannel. 


Don Pedro. 
Old Maid. 
Faro. 


GAME. 

Old Sledge. Euchre. Casino. 

Smut. Pitch. Keno. 

High Low Jack. Presbyterian Billiards. Whist. Pool. 


TONGUE. 

Old Maid’s Lip, Vinegar Sauce. Curtain Lecture, Old Woman Sauce. 

Mother-in-Law Tongue. Son- in-Law Sass. 


ENTREES. 


Umbrella, Rain Water Sauce, 

Locusts on the Half Shell. 

Fish Giblets, a la Gin Sauce. 
Spider’s Toes, Breaded. 
Stewed Cat, Boston Style. 

Frogs’ Ears, a la Coal Oil Sauce. 
Buzzards’ Eyebrows Larded 

Baked Chignons. 


Tree Toads, Fried & Stuffed with White Mice. 
Horse Blankets Fricaseed. 

Boiled Flies, Corn-Cob Salad. 

Black-Bird’s Eyebrows Larded. 
Broiled Hairpins on Toast. 

Humming Birds, Stuffed with Old Shoes. 
Fried Buffalo Robes (very tupli). 
'filters on Toast. 


Corn. 


Corn Fried. 
Corn Broiled. 


VEGETABLES. 

Tight Boot Corns. Soft Corns. 

Corn Baked. Corn Cob. Hard Corn. 


PASTRY. 

Apple Pie, Fluted, Machine Made. Saw Dust Pudding, a la Pine Sauce. 

Custard Pie, Left-Handed. Spalding’s Glue. 

Rubber Pie, with Goodyear’s Patent. Paper Hangers’ Paste. 

Sponge Pies, Cut Bias. Flax Seed Pudding, a la Mucilage Sauce. 

Round-Shouldered Pies. Mustard Seed Pudding. 

Leather Pies, with Buckles. Shingle Nail Pudding. 

DESSERT. 

Erie Canal Ice Cream. Yeast Cake. Cord Cake. Boarding House Cake. 
Liver Jelly. Floating Raft. (a la lock 40) Sauce. Door Jam. 

FRUITS, NUTS, ETC. 

Peeled Onions. Osage Oranges. Snow Balls. Mandrakes. Sour Grapes. 
Thorn Apples. Red Flannel Caramels. Hogs’ Foot Gum Drops. Boiled Acorns. 
Hash. Bourbon County Gum Drops. Horse Chestnuts. Doughnuts. 

ISAAC SOMMRE’S LIQUORS. 

Ice Water. Soft Water. Cold Water. Hot Water. Hard Water. 
Saltwater. lola Water. Boiled Oil. Castor Oil. Hair Oil. Magnolia Balm. 

At the same wild western house the following was posted ; 

[i 9 6] 


NOTIS TO CESTS. 

If the bugs are troublesome, you’ll find the kloroform in a 
bottle on the shelf. 

Gents goin’ to bed with their boots on will be charged extra. 

Three raps at the door means there is a murder in the house 
and you must get up. 

Please rite your name on the wall paper, so we may know you’ve 
been here. 

The other leg of the chair is in the closet if you need it. 

If that hole where that pain of glass is out is too much for you, 
you’ll find a pair of pants back of the door to stuff in it. 

The shooting of a pistol is no cause for any alarm. 

If you’re too cold, put the oil cloth over your bed. 

Caroseen lamps extra ; candles free, but they mustn’t burn all 
night. 

Don’t tare off the wall paper to light your fire with. 'Nuff of 
that already. 

Gests will not take out them bricks in the mattress, 

If it rains through that hole overhead, you’ll find an umbrella 
under the bed. 

The rats won’t hurt you if they do chase each other across your 
face. 

Two men in a room must put up with one chair. 

Please don’t empty the sawdust out of the pillow. 

Tallow candles burned after bed time 2>7 2 A cents per inch extra. 

Guests favored with knives and forks without handles charged 
25 cents extra. 

Travelers are earnestly requested to report all servants who 
show them any attention, in order that they may be immediately 
discharged. 

The proprietor will not be responsible for property stolen from 
rooms in which the occupant retired without pushing the bed¬ 
stead against the door. 

Waiters are provided with cards and slate pencils. The most 
polite ladies will act as waiters, dressed in Pea Green Jackets, 
Tilting Hoops and High-heeled Buttoned Gaiters. 

Suckers, Setters and Blowers will make their dinners out of 
Crackers and Cheese. 


[197] 


198 


Ger Rail and Cross-Ties 


THE GAME DID NOT PAN OUT RIGHT. 

The New York Sun says, that a bridal couple took the 
train from Buffalo to Philadelphia, and it was generally 
remarked that they conducted themselves as well as 
could be expected under the circumstances. After 
about a four hours’ ride, the groom got off at a station 
where a short stop was made—saying to the bride that 
he wanted to speak to a man, but saying to one of the 
boys on the quiet : 

“ When the train starts, I’ll get into the car behind 
and she’ll think I was left. Then look out to see her go 
into fits. I appear on the scene in time to prevent con¬ 
sequences.” 

The programme was carried out. As the train started, 
a drummer rushed into the train and plumped himself 
down by the side of the bride, without a question, and 
in five minutes he was talking about the weather, Buf¬ 
falo, Philadelphia, and a dozen other things. She grew 
interested at once, and did not seem to think of her 
newly made husband. The latter waited a quarter of 
an hour, and then sneaked into the car. He expected to 
find her half dead w T ith anxiety, but she wasn’t. She 
was talking in a very animated way. And when he 
came forward she looked up and said : 

“ That you, James ? I thought you were left ; sit back 
there somewhere.” 

And for two hours he “ sat,” while that drummer held 
the fort and every lady was tickled to death. “Your 
experiment didn’t work as well as you thought it would, 
did it ?” 

“ Not exactly,” was the reply, “ but you wait ! You 
ought to be around to-night and see me lick her with 
a towel.” 


With Gripsack . 


I99 


CHAPTER VI. 

ON THE ROAD.” 

What a world of meaning hidden 
In the brief words “ On the Road 

Memories crowding up, unbidden 
From the heart’s disturbed abode. 

Ere I take up humble pen, 

O ! my brothers “On the Road,” 

Judge ye leniently, as men, 

Pardoning the feeble mode. 

Not a teacher, to the taught, 

But as scholar to the wise ; 

Would I now these lines submit 
To your sympathizing eyes. 

Sometimes, radiant with success, 
Seeing thro’ hope’s rosy light ; 

All things beautiful and fair 
As the glowing sunrise bright. 

Push and principle and tact, 

These our trusty watchwords three ; 

So to speak and think and act 
That our object gained may be. 

Meeting non-success with smiles, 
Persevering to the end ; 

Is not this a picture faint, 

Of our struggles, oh, my friend ? 

May we, in the new year coming, 

Win fresh laurels in the fray ; 

Shoulder e'en to shoulder marching, 

Hearts intrepid all the way. 


200 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

Brothers ! as we journey on, 

Let us be as righteous leaven ; 

By our influence aiding each 

“ On the Road ” that leads to Heaven. 

A. G. Wait, in On the Road. 


AN OLD TIMER. 

Yes, I’ve seen him oft before, 

As he went from store to store 
With his grip. 

I knew him years ago ; 

The drummers had a show, 

And didn’t have to blow 

And “ shoot their lip.” 

When he was in his prime, 

Way back in sixty-nine, 

Few could sell— 

Half the goods old Charlie sold ; 
But now he’s getting old, 

And well nigh lost his hold, 

So they tell. 

He was always fair and square ; 
Couldn’t beat him anywhere 
In the land ; 

Always drove his business straight, 
Working early, working late, 

And a trade, well, simply great— 
Did he command ! 

Never did a finer chap 
Don a coat or wear a cap, 

’Pon my word ! 



261 


With Gripsack . 

But like all the clever boys, 

Full of frolic, fun and noise, 

He at last lost equipoise, 

I have heard. 

He took his customers to dine, 

Told ’em stories, bought ’em wine, 

Many a glass ; 

Show’d ’em all there was in town, 

Always smiling, ne’er a frown, 

But too many got him down, 

And alas-! 

The poor old fellow’s bust! 

“ Blow’d in all his dust !” 

While his friend-? 

You know how ’tis yourself, 

When a man has lost his pelf, 

Why, they lay him on the shelf, 

There he ends. 

Yet you cannot keep him down, 

And still he comes to town, 

Lame and old. 

But as long as he comes ’round, 

With his grip, I am bound, 

He will never say he found 
Me cold. 

By Le Gage. 


THE INFLUENCE OF THE TRAVELERS. 

The commercial traveler to-day exercises a greater 
influence for good or evil on the young men of this 
country than any other kind of man. The clerks in the 
country stores that he visits during the year, look up to 






262 O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 

him and admire him ; the storekeeper is influenced by 
him and is swayed by his persuasive powers; and he 
either inspires confidence in his fellow-man or makes 
him lose faith in him. On the streets of seven-eighths of 
the towns and villages of this country he is a marked 
object. He laughs, he talks, he insinuates himself into 
the good graces of the very best people, and invades 
their homes and firesides, casting an influence which is 
either for good or for bad. On the railroad platforms, 
in the railroad depots, on the railroad trains all over 
this continent, we find him. There is no place where 
he does not go and wield his mighty influence. 

Who and what are these men is a question which 
modern society must ask itself and be careful about 
the answer it gets. Are they what many of our good 
people suppose them to be—a wild, thoughtless, reckless 
set, intent only on selling a bill of goods and having a good 
time, not caring who or what are their companions, 
indulging in all sorts of licentiousness and folly? 

As one who has spent eighteen years of his life 
among them, I answer very emphatically, “ No.” They 
are men of superior intellect, push, perseverance and 
tenacity of purpose, selected by the house for whom 
they do business ; men who can be trusted to work 
well and faithfully for their employer’s interests while 
far away from his eye ; men to whom he intrusts 
money, railroad tickets and samples amounting to hun¬ 
dreds ; yes, sometimes to thousands of dollars ; clean, 
straighforward, honest, upright men. “Clean?” you 
say. “ Yes, clean,” I answer, and as an example I take 
the house with which I am connected. We employ six¬ 
teen of these men. I have charge of them, and as I look 
them over you would find it hard to pick out sixteen 
cleaner, straighter men in any walk of life, and the 


With Gripsack. 


203 

cleaner and straighter they are the better for their house. 
The business of to-day is done on such close margins 
that no house can afford to employ any but clean, 
straight men, who give the strictest attention to business. 
The day of the “ bummer drummer” is past. The man 
who formerly held his trade by treating, wining and din¬ 
ing his customers is fast passing away, and will soon be 
entirely a thing of the oast. Our house, for one, will not 
employ a man if we know him to be a drinking man, no 
matter what his record as a salesman may have been, or 
what promises he makes. 

That there are wild, reckless, dissolute men among 
the commercial travelers still, I admit. That often 
young men, and even older ones, exposed to the tempta¬ 
tions that beset the man away from home and all its 
fond associations, and the safeguards which it throws 
around him, sometimes fall, and often commit acts they 
would not at home, and are guilty of grievous and many 
sins, I do not question ; but the majority of the travel¬ 
ing men of to-day are strong, clean, able, upright men. 

What credit is it to a man to be morally good at 
home, who has a good, true wife, mother, or sister to set 
before him every morning a good, sweet meal, to send 
him out to his day’s work with the benediction of a pure 
woman’s kiss on his lips? Busy he is all day, pushing 
his work, so he may get back to the home where wife, 
children and mother are waiting to welcome him. How 
different the surroundings of the commercial traveler ! 
In the hotel at his breakfast table often sits the tempta¬ 
tion which does not assail the man at home. On the 
street, in the railroad depot, and on every occasion, 
temptation assails him. Instead of being at home, sur¬ 
rounded by wife and family, at night he has to again 
face terrible temptations. Take seven-eighths of your 


204 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


stay-at-homes, place the same temptations before them, 
and they would fall at the first step. 

I have said that these sixteen men under my care are 
as clean as any ordinary sixteen men you would meet. 
Like conditions prevail in other houses and lines of busi¬ 
ness. Men are in them just as good as these, just as 
strong ; men of great ability, large resources, able to 
stand by themselves, men selected specially for these 
characteristics ; picked men from the men around 
them. Are they not specially adapted to spread the 
kingdom of our Lord and Master as they travel from 
city to city, from town to town, from village to village, 
from hamlet to hamlet ? They are men who are able to 
overcome difficulties and handle their fellow-men. 

But you ask : Are not these men opposed to the 
Church and to Church work ? On the contrary many 
only stand waiting to be asked to go to the church. In 
the smaller towns Sunday often is a dull day to the 
commercial travelers. Nothing to do, no place to go, 
they sit around the hotels during the hours of church, 
like the laborers who stood idle because no man hired 
them. 

A commercial traveler sat at breakfast in a country 
town with three others. As he left the table he invited 
them to call in his room. They did so. On the table 
lay an open Bible. One asked : “ Is that your traveling 
companion ?” When he answered “Yes,” all spoke up, 
and by turn admitted that they had occupied, when at 
home, one position or another in their different churches ; 
and through the influence of that open Bible all attended 
church that day. In another town, at the supper table 
of a hotel, sat two St. Andrew’s Brotherhood men. At 
the same table were four commercial travelers. One 
of the Brotherhood men determined to try and get the 


With Gripsack. 


205 


crowd to attend evening service. He knew none of 
them, but by a few well directed questions opened a 
conversation, invited them to attend church, and they 
all did so, saying they were glad of the invitation and 
opportunity. 

Meeting a young man a few days since, formerly a 
member of the same Chapter as myself, now a commer¬ 
cial traveler, I asked if he attended church, and he 
answered, “ Yes, always when on the road." Another 
member of the first Chapter with which I was connected, 
when he went on the road, traveling through small 
villages and to saw-mills in the South, went speaking, 
preaching and talking of the work of the Brotherhood. 
In one of our large cities last fall I met a man who was 
carrying on a mission in one of the hardest quarters of 
the city. He told me that the greatest help he got in 
his work was from a commercial traveler who came 
regularly when in the city to help him. And who has 
done more for the work and the spread of Christ’s 
kingdom among men than he whom we all honor and 
love, because he has given up his business and gone 
solely into the Master’s work—Charles James Wills ? 
And was he not a commercial traveler, and are there not 
numbers, yea, hundreds, like him among them, only 
waiting to be called into the work ?—John M. Locke in 
St. Andrew's Cross. 


THE DRUMMER’S TOAST. 

Could I sip of the nectar the gods only can, 
I would fill up the glass to the brim, 

And drink success to the traveling man, 
And the house represented by him. 



206 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


And could I but tincture the glorious draught 
With his smiles, as I drink to him then, 

With the laughs he has laughed and the jokes he has 
told. 

I would fill up the goblet again. 

I would drink to the wife with the babe on her knee, 

As she waits his return with a sigh ; 

As she opens his letters so tenderly and reads, 

While a tear dims the eye. 

I would drink to the sweetheart who gave him good¬ 
bye, 

With a tenderness thrilling in bliss ; 

As she thinks of him now with a tear in her eye, 
Recalling the sweets of his kiss. 

To the purest of hearts and the fairest of hands, 

I would drink with my hopes and my prayers, 

For the heart she must trust is a traveling man’s, 

And as warm as the ulster he wears. 

I would drink to the feeble old mother, 

Who sits by the fireside weary and lone, 

And murmurs and weeps o’er the stockings she knits, 
As she thinks of her wandering son. 

I would drink long life and health 

To the friends who meet him with many a cheer ; 

To the generous hand the stranger extends, 

To the sojourner wandering here. 

And when he must quit this earthly abode, 

And has paid the last fare that he can, 

Mine host of the inn at the end of the road 
Will welcome the traveling man. 

J. Whitcomb Riley, 


With Gripsack . 


207 


THE WOMAN DRUMMER. 

“ There is a new racket on the road," said a com¬ 
mercial traveler ; “ it's a female drummer. “ I met her 
the other day and she is a dandy. Of course she is 
from Chicago and she sells goods like a January thaw. 
She has been out so long now that she is as indepen¬ 
dent as a hog on ice. She sits in an ordinary car and 
charges up sleeping berths in her expenses just like the 
rest of us. She walks to the hotels from the stations, 
and charges up the hack fares, just as we do. She beats 
the landlord down to $1.50 a day, and charges the 
house $2.50, in the regular old style. She can take 
care of herself every day in the week ; and she knows 
how to order up a bottle of wine, and work it on the 
expense account, too. Why, when I saw her last she 
was a new silk dress ahead of the firm, and by New 
Year’s proposed to have a sealskin sacque out of her 
expenses. And that isn’t all : she has half of the 
hotel clerks in the Northwest mashed on her; and 
the way the little rascal knocks ’em down on her 
bill is a caution. She has a regular trick of staying 
over Sunday where one of her admirers runs the 
house ; and she walks off Monday morning, forget¬ 
ting to pay the bill. What does she sell ? That’s 
the funniest thing about it, You would think she 
would ' handle jewelry or millinery, or dry-goods, 
wouldn’t you ? But she doesn’t. She sells gents’ 
furnishing goods ; and the fly young men who usu¬ 
ally keep that kind of stores buy of her as if they 
hadn’t seen a commercial traveler for six months. And 
she is a dandy poker player, too. She handles the cards 
awkwardly, and acts as if she didn’t know a full hand 


208 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


from two pairs, and raises $2 on deuces, and nearly 
cries when t’other fellow shows up three of a kind, and 
then gets excited in a big jack pot, and raises the 
opener, and bets the limit, and raises back and scares 
t’other fellow out, and slides into the deck a little 
pair of sixes or sevens or a bobtail as innocently as 
you please. Bluff? Why, she has a bluff on her like 
the Wisconsin River. She’s a daisy ; and I tell you it’s 
mighty lucky for the boys that there ain’t any more 
like her on the road.”— ChicagoHerald. 


DEDICATED TO THE 

ANGELS OF COMMERCE. 

COMMONLY DESIGNATED DRUMMERS. 

“ Saint Peter still sits by the heavenly gates, 

And sweetly he plays on his lyre, 

And still he is singingas calmly he waits, 

For the spirits of those who expire. 

The legions of angels, they pause now and then, 

To hear the sweet words of the song, 

Which echoes and murmurs and echoes again, 

And swelled by the heavenly throng. 

For ages I’ve waited and sung to my lyre, 

At the doors of the region of light. 

The kickers I’ve watched as they went to the fire, 

While the Drummers all turned to the right. 

The Drummers who labored,Jthe Drummers who wrought, 
And gave to their city their might— 

O, the Kickers will roast where the climate is hot 
Put the Drummers will come to the right. 



With Gripsack. 2o< 

What odds though the Drummers on earth were bereft, 
When waits them eternal delight. 

For now while the Kickers all turn to the left, 

The Drummers come in by the right. 

So go to the captain, O Drummers, and call 
For a crown and a garment of white, 

And play on your harps through the centuries all, 
While the Drummers come in at the right. 

Their voices the Heavenly anthem will swell, 

In the land of the happy and bright, 

The Kickers get in on the ground floor of-- 

While the Drummers come it at the right." 


THE DRUMMER’S SCALPS. 

The Western Traffic Association are after the drum 
mers and no mistake. To prevent him from standing in 
with the conductors, agents and baggagemen has been a 
study and a puzzle to the railroad managers, but worse 
than this the naughty “ Angel of Commerce” has found 
the way to Clark street, but not only buys mileage from 
the ticket broker, but sells what he has no further use 
for at a discount, and this piece of folly demoralizes the 
rates and keeps the manager in danger of a lecture, or 
worse from Judge Cooley. But beware, ye drummer, the 
slave pen is being got ready for you, you are now to be 
caught, branded and marked. The agent who sells the 
Mileage Book, after an examination to determine that the 
drummer is himself, and not made up of wigs, corsets, 
glass eyes, artificial legs, arms, teeth, etc., which are liable 
to be changed, will carefully fill out the mileage ticket 
with a full description about as follows: Name, J. J; 



2 TO 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


height, 6 feet 6 inches ; weight, 200 pounds; straight, 
hunchbacked, one shoulder high, short legs, stiff knee, 
large joints, face freckled, brown mustache three inches 
long, chin shaved and scar in middle, mole on nose left 
side, gray eyes, black spot on left side of left eye, front 
teeth large, one filled with gold left corner, eye tooth on 
left side missing, teeth blackened with fine cut tobacco, 
spits frequently, hair brown, cut short, with the bump of 
benevolence bald, and self-esteem showing up with hair¬ 
less pride. The ticket being thus filled out and paid for 
with an additional ten dollars as security that the drum¬ 
mer will not change his teeth, hair, eyes, head or face, or 
be guilty of the crime of growing whiter, blacker, more 
freckled, taller, fatter, leaner, or otherwise changing in 
one year, on which conditions the mileage ticket is good 
for transportation for one year from the date of same, 
otherwise he shall lose himself, mileage, ten dollars and 
all. The drummer thus equipped with the necessary 
“bits” to pay his hotel bills, starts on his “ trip;" the 
genial conductor of Great Mogul R. R. comes along. 
“Tickets” rings through the car, and punch, punch, till 
our drummer presents his transportation signed, stamped, 
punched, etc. In his innocence he expects to be quickly 
passed, when in thunder tones the Con. says, “ Stand up ! 
look me straight in the eye, take off your hat, open your 
mouth. Have you changed your teeth ? Yes, here is the 
dentist’s bill, $25. All right. I’ll pass you this time, but 
don’t do it again. Tickets,” and the future superin¬ 
tendent of the Tunder and Blitzen Short Line moves on. 
— Courser , in Commercial Gazette . 


With Gripsack . 


21 I 


SAND IS WHAT THEY HAVE. 

I observed a locomotive, in the raiu oad yard one day, 

It was waiting near the round house where the locomo¬ 
tives stay. 

It was panting for the journey, it was coaled and fully 
manned, 

And it had a box, the fireman was filling full of sand. 

It appears that locomotives cannot always get a grip 

Upon their slender iron pavements, cause the wheels are 
apt to slip. 

So when they strike a slippery spot, their tactics they 
demand 

To get a grip upon the rail ; they sprinkle it with sand. 

It is about this way with travel along life's slippery 
track, 

If your road is rather heavy, and you are always sliding 
back, 

You can get to any station, that is on. life’s schedule 
scene, 

If there is fire beneath the boiler of ambition’s strong 
machine, 

And you’ll reach a place called Flushtown, at a rate of 
speed that’s grand, 

If for all these slippery places, you’ve a good supply of 
sand 


COL. STIRLING B. TONEY'S SPEECH. 

The following is the speech of Col. Stirling B. Toney, 
made at the Galt House Convention of Drummers in 
1885. It will be seen that it is not at all like the speech 
of Governor Knott, as has been supposed by some : 



212 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


“Mr. Chairman — I have no claim to the high and 
undeserved honor by which you have distinguished me 
in demanding that I shall respond to the toast, ‘The 
Commercial Traveler.’ I feel that the compliment is 
not only unmerited by me, but is injudiciously bestowed, 
when I see around me such an array of wit and genius, 
by whom the subject could be so much more artistically 
and eloquently handled. The theme is eloquent, though 
its advocate be mute. 

The commercial traveler is no fictitious invention of 
modern times. Tradition, history’s tearful, but still 
faithful, watchful mother, reveals unmistakable evidence 
of his existence in pre-historic archaeology ; while in the 
science of anthropology we find that he has been under¬ 
going processes of development and evolution in his 
ethical status, as well as mutation in his philological 
classification. In the gray dawn of civilization, great¬ 
ness had its coronation and its fall in the market-place. 
In the mad house of toil, man was a maniac dancing 
his death round for a golden coffin. Traffic was rob¬ 
bery. Trade was legalized pillage. Nestor asked Tele- 
machus : ‘ Are you a merchant or a pirate ?’ So can¬ 
kered were the monetary ties betwixt man and man, in 
the life scuffle for wealth, that might was the criterion 
of right, and piracy and commerce were synonyms. 
The policy of States was modified, and new energies 
were inspired, and the material destiny of man elevated, 
by the advent upon the world’s stage of the commercial 
traveler. Are we not told that it was they who came 
from Gilead into Egypt with samples of myrrh, and 
spice, and balm, to whom Joseph was sold by his bro¬ 
thers ? Did they not come from Phoenicia and discover 
the plain of Jordan, the hilly slopes of Judea, the sacred 
Mount Moriah, the long “ promised land,’’ with its 


213 


With Gripsack . 

grapes and pomegranates ? Did they not bravely launch 
their oared barques upon the stormy deep and found 
Tyre and Sidon, of whose opulence and splendor sacred 
and profane history are so replete with abundant proofs ? 
Did they not exchange the grain and ivory of the Nile 
for the oils and silks and spices of Western Asia? Did 
they not penetrate the golden land of India and bring 
to Solomon the wealth of Ophir? 

They traversed the Mediterranean from the pillars of 
Hercules to the garden of the Hesperides, and laid the 
foundation for the future splendor of the commercial 
cities of Greece. At Palmyra they illuminated the 
palm-covered and lucrative groves of commerce with 
Roman gallantry and Attic wit. They destroyed the 
commercial isolation of Palestine ; the) 7- established the 
marine grandeur of Carthage ; they made Venice the 
bride of the sea. They preserved amid the storms and 
waves and darkness of the middle ages the sacred flame 
of commerce that was to relume and rebuild the world. 
They followed the stroke of the valiant oar of Colum¬ 
bus, and emptied into the lap of Europe the gold and 
silver mines of Mexico and Peru. They have established 
the mercantile glory and greatness of our country, and 
have given it a commercial magnificence unknown 
before. They have built up among the States of this 
Union a solid material and social comity, which is the 
enduring base of a high and permanent commercial 
civilization and political glory. 

As a fraternity, I should rather say as a noble priest¬ 
hood, they are as cohesive and formidable as the ancient 
Druids of Britain and Gaul, as resolute as the croziered 
Crusaders, as valiant as the Legion of Honor, and as 
honorable as the Knights of the cross of St. George. 


214 O er Rail and Cross -Ties 

It has been peculiarly my happy fortune and honor 
to be more or less intimately associated with commer¬ 
cial travelers all my life, and I have always wondered 
why they were never called by their right name— 
“ Knights of the Golden Fleece.” For whether in camp 
or court, or castle, they always wear the badge of knight¬ 
hood, which is the star of honor ; and they are always 
in pursuit of the “ golden fleece.” Hercules, Castor, 
Pollux and Orpheus, in fact all the boys who went 
with Jason to Colchis to get that ramskin that was hung 
up in the sacred grove of Mars, were commercial travel¬ 
ers. They were not. after fleecing anybody ; they were 
after the “golden fleece,” and that is what the T. P. A. 
are after to-day. They had the same experience, only 
in a milder form, which you daring Argonauts enjoy 
who travel from Chicago, and Cincinnati, and St. 
Louis, and Louisville, and other seaport towns, on 
your steam camels through the West and South in 
search of the “golden fleece.” On their route they 
vanquished harpies, they slew dragons, they strangled 
gorgons ; they yoked the brass-hoofed bulls that snorted 
fire, to Meikle and Avery plows, and sub-soiled the 
field of the God of War, and sowed it down in snakes’ 
teeth, for a crop of soldiers; they steered safely 
between Scylla and Charybdis ; they passed the sirens, 
although that liked to have wrecked them. But alas, 
the truth has to be told, they could not escape the 
charms of the local nymphs that beset their perilous 
path. But as none but the brave deserve the fair, the 
world has long since forgiven, condoned and forgotten 
that little picnic at Lemnos, and charged it up to profit 
and loss. 

Does the parallel not strike you ? Like you, those 


With Gripsack . 


2I 5 


commercial travelers from Thessaly were valiant, affable, 
cheery and buoyant, and while they had the well-being 
of their country at heart, yet like you, against the charms 
of the gentle sex, they were fallible, temptible and frail. 


WORRYING A BRIDAL PARTY. 

Peck's Sun tells the following story, parts of which are 
true ; 

“ Say, what kind of a hotel do you keep ?” said a green¬ 
looking man, as he stepped up to the counter and 
registered his name, and added “ and wife ” after it. 
“Can a newly married couple settle down here for two 
or three days, and have a quiet visit with each other, 
and not be scared out of their boots ?” 

The hotel man said they could go right to their rooms, 
and stay there three days, or three weeks, and never 
come to their meals if they didn't want anything to eat. 
“ But what is the matter? You been annoyed?” asked 
the hotel man. 

“Annoyed? That don’t express it. We were married 
day before yesterday, at St. Paul, and went to a hotel. 
I live about sixty miles west of St. Paul, and the travel¬ 
ing men put up a job on me, to make me tired. There 
were about a hundred of them snowed in at St. Paul, 
and I’ll be darned if they didn’t keep us awake all night. 
They knew we were a bridal couple, and they bribed the 
bell-boys and porters to let them act for them, and when 
we rung the bell for the bell boy, a drummer from a Chi¬ 
cago cigar factory came in and wanted to know what 
we wanted. I ordered a pitcher of ice water, and a Mil¬ 
waukee drummer for a grocery house brought it in, 
and he looked at my wife—who is bashful—and made 



216 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

her feel real bad. I didn’t know they were drummers 
until the next day, or I should have killed some of them. 
I rung the bell for coal, and a traveling man who posts 
railroad cards around, and works up excursions, he 
came in and fixed the fire, and he stayed and poked the 
fire for half an hour, and he had more gall than I ever 
see. He asked so many questions about how long we 
had been married, that I wanted to thump him. But 
my wife said we didn’t want to have no row the first day 
we got married. 

“ I rang for the chambermaid to clean up the room and 
bring some towels, and it was about a half hour before 
she came, and I went down to the office to see about my 
trunk, and the chambermaid stayed about half an hour, 
and was very interesting, and my wife said she was a 
real pleasant, affectionate creature, far above her station, 
and I tell you I was mad, when I found out that it was 
a smooth-faced, handsome young Jewish drummer for a 
Milwaukee clothing house, who was in the gang, and he 
gave the chambermaid three dollars to loan him an old 
dress so he could play chambermaid. When my wife 
told me that the chambermaid patted her on the cheek 
and said she was the sweetest bride that was ever in the 
hotel, and asked for a kiss, and my wife said she 
thought it would be no harm to kiss a poor chamber¬ 
maid and encourage her, I wanted to kill him, and I 
went down to the office the next morning, but the 
smooth-faced cuss had gone to Fargo. It was all the 
landlord could do to hold me. Well, while we were at 
supper somebody got into the room, and put cracker 
crumbs in our bed, and we found a cold oil-cloth floor 
mat over the top sheet, enough to freeze anybody. 
But the worst was at night. We had just got in the 
bed comfortably when there was a knock at the door, 


With Gripsack . 


217 

and I got up. The watchman was there, and he said 
he wanted to point me the fire escape so I could get out 
in case of fire, and I went out in the hall and he took 
me way out to the end of the building to show it to me, 
and while I was looking out of the window my wife 
came running down the hall and begging me to save 
her. I asked her what was the matter, and she said as 
soon as I went out, a man that looked like a porter 
came into the room, and told her to fly and save herself 
and to follow her husband. 

She felt awful when she found there was no trouble, 
and we got back into the room half froze. I have got 
them fellows down fine. The fellow who called me out 
to look at the fire escape, is a drummer for a Philadelphia 
millinery house, and the one that scared my wife out of 
her wits, travels for a hearse factory at Rochester, N. Y. 
My wife says she would know him, for he had a big 
gray mustache, and wears a diamond collar button in 
his shirt. She said she thought he was pretty stylish 
for a porter at the time. They woke us up several times 
in the night, to tell us what to do in case we were sick 
in the morning. Before we were up a waiter brought 
up our breakfast. He said the landlord sent it up, and 
he just stood around until we had to sit up and eat 
breakfast. I thought at the time it was kind in the 
landlord to send up our breakfast, but when I found 
that the waiter who brought it up was a traveling man 
for a reaper factory at Rockford, and remembered how 
darned impudent he looked at my wife, I could have 
murdered him, but the clerk said he had gone to 
Winnepeg. It was just as bad coming down here on 
the sleeping car, and I think half the passengers on the 
car were those same drummers that were snowed in. It 
was colder than Alaska, and I would order extra blankets, 


2 I 8 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


and they would steal them.. I had more then twenty 
blankets put on the bed, and in the morning there was 
nothing but a sheet over us. And every time there was 
a blanket spread over us, there was a different porter 
put it on, and I think they were all traveling men. Every 
little while somebody would pull open the curtains and 
sit down on my berth, and begin to pull off his boots, 
and I would tell him the berth was occupied, and that he 
must have made a mistake, and he would look around 
at us, as innocent as could be, and ask our pardon, and 
then go out and damn the porter. Once I felt somebody 
feeling about my berth and I asked what was the matter, 
and the fellow said he was looking for my wife’s shoes 
to black. Then about every fifteen minutes the conductor 
would open the curtains, and hold a red lantern in, and 
ask for our tickets. I think they punched my ticket 
sixty-five times. Anyway it looked like a porous plaster 
when I got up in the morning. I think it was traveling 
men who were playing conductor, but I was sleepy, and 
thought the best way was to let them punch it. Well, 
about three o’clock in the morning somebody punched 
us, and said it was time to get up, as all the passengers 
were up and we would have breakfast in fifteen minutes. 
And then we hustled around and got dressed, the best 
way we could, laying on our backs, and kicking our 
clothes up in the air, and catching them on ourselves 
when they came down. I got my pants on wrong side 
before, and lost everything out of my pockets, and my 
wife lost her hair and had to tie a handkerchief around 
her head, and then we had our berths made up, and sat 
up until daylight, and the porter found my wife’s hair 
and pinned it to the curtains of a berth occupied by a 
preacher from Oshkosh, and he kicked and got mad, and 
talked about it and wondered how it came there; and he 


With Gripsack . 


219 


swore about it, and I think lie travels for an Oshkosh 
carriage factory. Oh, I never had such a night, or two 
such nights, in all my life, and what I want to know is, 
if I can be quiet here, and get a little sleep, and not be 
annoyed ?” 

The hotel man told him if anybody came around to 
bother him, to knock them clear down stairs, and he 
would be responsible, and the bridegroom took his 
satchel, and his wife, and the colored man showed them 
a room, and they have not showed up since. 


HE CALLED HER DARLING. 

This is a good story from the Detroit Free Press : 

“ As the train pulled out of Charleston I looked around 
the car and saw that there were seven of us occupying 
whole seats, while the eighth was holding a pert looking 
girl about eighteen years old. I think the idea with the 
other six men was to get some sort of an excuse to share 
the young lady's seat. One offered to open the window, 
but found it open and fell back. A second offered her a 
book, but she had read it. A third handed her a news¬ 
paper, but she had the same issue. The fourth was a 
drummer from Cincinnati. He pulled his cap down, 
picked up his grip and went to the door and banged it, 
as if he had just entered, then rushing down the aisle, 
he plunped down beside the girl, without a word, stowed 
his grip under his feet, pulled out a paper and began to 
read. It was ten minutes before he said a word to her, 
but when the conversation opened she proved to be the 
most entertaining talker man ever listened to. She had 
traveled everywhere, and seen everything, and had a 
laugh to make a man’s heart jump. As the train 



2 20 


O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


thundered on, the drummer made love right and left, 
and seemed to have made a complete mash. She gave 
him her address, invited him to call, told him all about 
the family, and permitted him to call her darling before 
we reached Savannah. He was to see about her baggage 
there, and while looking for it she slipped away. When we 
got to the hotel, he suddenly grew as white as flour ; she 
had borrowed his diamond ring and still had it; she 
had slyly taken his gold watch and chain, and when he 
felt for his wallet, his fingers clutched an empty pocket. 
He danced around like a crazy monkey, figuring his 
total loss at $520, but he raved in vain. The entertaining 
girl who had permitted him to darling her, and who 
solemnly informed him that she had never known what 
love was until then, could not be found by the police. 
It was a back-handed game." 


CALLED HOME. 

“ Hello ! Charlie, what in the world is the matter with 
you, my boy ? What makes you look so down-hearted ?” 
I said to a fellow commercial whom I met in the hotel 
office at Merchantsburg a few days before last Christ¬ 
mas, moodily pacing up and down the tiled floor with a 
letter opened in his hand. “ What ails you, any way ? 
Anything gone wrong with you?” “Just read that 
insulting letter,” he replied, handing it to me. “If that 
is not enough to make a man who is doing his level best 
feel blue, I don’t know what will.” And this is what I 
read : 

Mr. Charles L. C. y Merchantsburg, Mo : 

Sir : Your order, No 56, just at hand. We note the 
liberty you have a taken in cutting prices. Do you 



With Gripsack . 2 2 1 

imagine, sir, that we steal our goods, or have them given 
to us ? It seems to us from your manner of doing busi¬ 
ness that you entertain some idea of that kind. Do you 
suppose we can provide for your salary and heavy travel¬ 
ing expenses and allow you to make your own prices on 
our goods? This must not occur again. If you can not 
get the market prices, don’t sell the goods, but come in at 
once and bring your samples with you, and your place 
will be supplied by some one who will obey our instruc¬ 
tions to the letter. 

In regard to your request to “ run in Christmas,” will 
say you can not afford to lose the time at this season of 
the year, even if you do “pay your own expenses in and 
back.” 

Your sales this season are much behind those of last 
year, and we naturally suppose that in the future you 
will try the harder to earn your salary, especially as you 
say the merchants are complaining of the dull season. 
We shall expect you to push winter goods and old stock. 
We do not employ you to sell staples, even if it is as you 
say, to start a new customer. A wooden man can sell 
new goods and staples. Please do not give us cause to 
complain again. 

Yours, etc., Mechante & Co. 

“ Friend Nav,” said Charlie, as he received from me 
the offending letter, and hastily hid it from his sight in 
his hip pocket, “ were it not for my dear wife and poor 
sick child, who need me, I would end this miserable exis¬ 
tence in short order. 

“My house knows that I have always been faithful to 
them, workiug steadily for their interests, but they 
are aware of my present pressing necessities, and inso¬ 
lently and heartlessly take advantage of them to brow- 


222 


O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


beat and insult me. My offence, as they deem it, was 
not great enough to call forth from them such an unfeel¬ 
ing and grossly insulting letter. You know the large 
and prosperous firm of Solvent & Co., of this town ? 
Well, our folks have taunted me time and again 
because I have never been able to sell them. On my 
last trip their buyer, Mr. Pullman, informed me that it 
was his desire to favor me personally, but our prices 
were too high, and besides he did not like our house. 
He needed some goods that I carried, the same kind he 
had purchased from a New York firm, and would give 
me an order at same prices. He showed me the goods 
from his stock and also the bill of same, which proved to 
me that my prices were but a shade higher. I felt called 
upon to use my discretion in the matter, and, in order to 
get his trade started, agreed to meet the New York 
prices, and so explained it to our house. He gave me 
quite a nice order, and I was quite elated over the fact 
that I had secured this solid firm as a customer. The 
sum total of the difference in prices amounted only to 
$2.10. The order was considerably over $300, and very 
few staples in it. I do not think such a deal should have 
caused such a cruel letter as the one you have just read. 
Do you ? 

“ But Nav, old boy, this is only one of the many burdens 
I bear in my heart. Four weeks ago, before packing my 
grip for this trip, our doctor warned me to prepare my¬ 
self for a heavier blow. He told me plainly that my 
darling and only child would not be with us when the 
leaves come again. He said that the dread destroyer, 
consumption, was slowly but surely loosening the cords 
of her life, and that our little ewe lamb would soon join 
the flock before the great white throne. We have not told 
her of her real condition, and it almost broke my heart to 


223 


With Gripsack. 

hear her recount what she intends to do for us next 
summer, when she gets well. On leaving home, with 
grip in hand and all ready to say ‘good-bye,’ she called 
me to her and held my face between her thin white 
hands, kissing it again and again, saying : ‘ Precious, 

sweet papa, you have been so good to me. I love you, 
oh ! ever so dearly. Take care of yourself and please 
don't disappoint me Christmas .’ ” 

The last few words seemed to lodge in the throat of 
the manly fellow, and, as he turned his face from me to 
brush away the tears that were fast chasing each other 
down his cheeks, he handed me a letter. “ Read this one,” 
he said. “ Here it is 

“ My own darling papa, it seems ever so long since you 
left us, and I miss you every hour in the day. Mamma 
and I can’t decide which one of us loves you most. My 
hand trembles so, papa, I can’t write very well, so you 
must excuse a short letter. I love to think of your last 
visit home, for you nursed me so tenderly, and I had 
nothing but kisses to give you for lifting me so gently 
from my chair to the bed. I always looked for you 
early every morning to bathe my face and hands and to 
bring me my orange. No one could cut it and prepare 
it like you, and I think it tasted better when you fixed 
it. I feel so tired now, papa, and mamma thinks I had 
better rest a while. 

“4 p. m. —I feel better now, and will try to finish this 
letter. Papa, please don’t feel badly, but I want to ask 
you a question. You remember the last morning before 
you left home, you were bathing my hands, as you did 
every morning. I said, ‘ Look how good and strong 
your hands are, and my poor hands look so weak and 


224 O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 

thin.’ It was not quite daylight, but as you kissed my 
hands after wiping them, I am sure I saw tears in your 
eyes. Papa, were those tears for me ? Do you think 
I will never get well ? 

“ I am so tired again, and will close. Christmas is 
not far off now. I am making something nice for 
mamma, but don’t you tell her. I am counting the days 
that separate me from my own sweet darling papa. 

Your loving daughter, Ella." 

The week following this incident, I met Charlie again 
at another town, very busy in his sample room at the 
hotel. His samples were spread around, and he was 
copying an order which he had just sold to his customer, 
when the proprietor opened the door, and, handing him 
a telegram, said, “ Mr. C., here is something for you." 
Charlie’s face assumed a deathly hue, and his hand 
trembled so he could hardly open the envelope. He 
hastily read the telegram, and, handing it to me, said, “ If 
you will kindly assist me in packing my samples I will 
take the next train home." 

The telegram was from his firm. It said : 

“ Your wife wants us to telegraph you to come home. 
Your daughter not so well." 

Charlie’s return seemed to revive her for a few days, 
and with his help she tried hard to finish the little 
Christmas present to surprise her mamma. Her poor, 
tired fingers were unequal to the task, and she said to 
him one day : “ Papa, if I never finish it, tell her how 
hard I tried, and give it to her just as it is." 

Five days before Christmas, at three o’clock in the 
morning, while Charlie folded the form to his breast, her 
gentle spirit took its homeward flight. 

After her poor, wasted form had been tenderly 


225 


With Gripsack . 

removed from the bed, Charlie found beneath her pillow, 
where she had placed it, a silken card-case, on which 
her mother’s initials were beautifully embroidered. 
The poor fellow kissed it over and over again, gave it to 
his wife, and said : “ Here, mamma, is Ella’s unfinished 
Christmas present, which she intended as a pleasant 
surprise to you. See ; here is the needle left sticking 
where her poor tired fingers left it. We will keep and 
cherish it as a sacred memento of our darling, who has 
been called home by the great Head of a House not 
made with hands, eternal in the heavens. How different 
are His calls to those of the busy world. Listen : 

“ * Art thou weary, art thou languid ? 

Art thou sore distressed ? 

“ Come to me,” says one, “and coming, be at rest.’ ” 

By Nav Tlep. 


KNIGHTS OF THE ROAD. 

The way was long, the wind was cold, 
The drummer was infirm and old ; 

His withered cheek and battered grip, 
Announced ’twas not his maiden trip. 
Before the days that Pullman ran, 

His sleeping cars to rob a man, 

Before the fast trains ever flew 
O’er tracks of steel, and cross-ties too, 
Before the news from sea to sea 
Was flashed on wires hung on a tree. 
Before electric light did crawl, 

Along a wire and through a wall, 



226 O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 

Before the street cars loaded down, 

Would, minus horses, haul the town. 

Before the gas came from the earth 
To warm our homes, or light our hearth, 

To run our mills or melt our ores 
To light our streets and show our stores ; 
Before the time that we were able 
To talk to England over a cable, 

Or cross the ocean in a week, 

Or through a telephone to speak, 

Before all this our hero can, 

Date back to when he first began 
To sell to whom his goods would buy, 

And missing one, another try. 

His horse, his means of getting round 
Through roads, o’er rocks and muddy ground. 
For years and years, he saw his trade,— 

But growth more competition made— 
Highways and railroads followed fast. 

More traveling men came out at last, 

And where he once had his own way 
He shares with twenty more to-day, 

And old and worn with weary tread 
He still sells goods to earn his bread. 

The employers with whom he first began 
Are well and happy to a man. 

While we who helped to make them such 
Have hair of snow and nothing much. 

So on we go, from door to door, 

Others get rich, while we stay poor, 

And fifty years hence we all can say 
There’s been wonderful changes in our day. 
The street cars here, are the only thing 
That never change or improvement bring. 


With Gripsack . 227 

A new set of men in the diamond dull 
A new lot of boys from the bleachers yell, 

A new set of drummers will hustle and walk, 

When we are laid aside not able to talk. 

So on goes the story, the same every year— 

Some one’s retired, some new one appears, 

’Till at last we are all through and ended the plot, 
God likes the sample—and takes the whole lot.” 

S. E. Moorhead. 


HE DIDN’T OWN IT. 

“ Can you give me a front room on the first floor?” 
asked a traveling man of the recently installed clerk. 

“ Can I give it to you ?” 

“ Yes, that is what I remarked.” 

“ That’s queer,” said the clerk, “ you’re the fourth man 
to-day who thought I owned this hotel .”—Merchant 
Traveler. 


HELD UP BY DRUMMERS. 

“ Did I ever tell you of a game we put up on a green 
Englishman on the run between Memphis and Little 
Rock, a few years ago ?” said a commercial traveler in 
speaking to a number of his fellows in the cafe of the 
Hoffman House recently. 

“No, you never did,” “ fire away,” “ let her go,” etc., 
were a few of the remarks that followed the query. 

“ Well, you can call time on me if it is a chestnut,” 
responded the first speaker, and then, catching the thread 
of his story, he continued : 




228 


O'er Rail and Cross 'Ties 


“ It’s five years ago, I guess. There were a half a 
dozen or more of us corraled at the Peabody House 
in Memphis, waiting for a chance to get over to Little 
Rock, with the idea of continuing our trip to Dallas, 
Fort Worth and San Antonio. Spring of the year, you 
know, and the floods had raised the deuce with the 
tracks. 

“ You know the road as well as I do—a lake in the 
spring and a sandy desert in the summer, poor rolling 
stock at all times, and a fair chance of being held up by 
a road agent thrown in for variety. 

‘‘Well, we started and had the Pullman almost to 
ourselves. Besides our party was a thorough-bred 
Kentucky Colonel and his wife, and a newly-imported 
Englishman. The Colonel had a good bottle of whiskey, 
the Englishman a supercilious air. He wore an eye¬ 
glass, too. 

“ Before the train had crossed the river, the boys had 
possession of the smoking compartment, and had settled 
down for a good talk and smoke. Presently the Col¬ 
onel joined us. His bottle of whiskey was soon circu¬ 
lating, and we warmed to the man instinctively. He 
was a ‘ jim dandy,' with a fund of stories and a great 
big, deep laugh that made a man’s heart warm to hear. 

“ After an hour or so the Englishman strolled in. He 
fixed his glass and scanned us all carefully ; then he 
relaxed the muscles of his face and the glass fell from 
his eye. He loaded a pipe, lit it, and puffed away like a 
chimney. 

‘“Come, take a drink,’ said the Colonel, addressing 
him. 

“‘No; I’m obliged to you,’ replied the Briton, 
politely enough. His objections amounted to nothing, 


With Gripsack. 229 

however, and soon gave way under the Colonel’s per¬ 
suasions. 

“ He entered into the conversation gradually, found 
fault with the country, the cooking and everything else. 
He had justice on his side, too, in many things he said 
about Southern hotel life and traveling during the spring 
rains. He was going to Texas to look at a ranclie that 
he thought of buying. 

“ Gradually we began speaking of train robbers, etc. 
Rube Burrows had just held up a train in Texas and 
killed a man or two while doing it. The Englishman 
became intensely interested, and we, finding him credu¬ 
lous, began to pile on the horror. From truth we 
began to give fiction. 

“ ‘ It is about ten miles from here, at a water tank, that 
Jesse James’ gang killed three men and robbed a train 
of $50,000/ said the Colonel. ‘ This very train, too,’ he 
added. 

“ ‘ Do you mean to say, sir,’ said the Englishman, ‘ that 
the country is infested with desperadoes who kill and 
rob at pleasure ?’ 

“ ‘That’s about the size of it,’ said one of the party. 

“ ‘ Great heavens !’ said the Briton. “ And the law, is 
it powerless ?’ 

“‘The law, my friend,’ replied the Colonel, ‘does what 
it can when the officials are honest. There is a strong 
suspicion,’ he added, ‘ that in many instances the officials 
themselves are the robbers, or are at least in league with 
them.’ 

“‘Should they rob me I would seek protection from 
the British Consul. The Queen protects her subjects the 
world over,’interjected the Briton. ‘ It would be made 
an international matter/ 


230 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


“ ‘ We have better protection than that,’ said one of 
the party, drawing out a revolver. 

‘“Yes, indeed,’ remarked the Colonel, drawing forth a 
huge Kentucky ‘gun’ of about 44-calibre, which he 
deposited on the seat beside him. 

“ ‘ We are nearing that water tank now,’ he added a 
moment later; ‘it’s a ticklish place. Are you armed, 
boys ?’ 

“One of the party threw up a window, and drawing a 
dirk previously borrowed from the porter of the car, 
jabbed it into the woodwork to support the sash, and 
looked out. 

“ ‘ If I should kill a man here,’ said the English traveler, 
‘what would be done with me ?’ 

“ ‘It’s all right if you’re a military man,’ said the Col¬ 
onel. ‘ I’ll give you a commission in my regiment this 
moment.’ 

“ ‘ But would it not militate against my fealty to the 
Queen.?’ asked the man, now thoroughly terrorized by 
the conversation and exhibition of fire-arms. 

“ ‘ Yes, indeed, it would,’ replied the Kentuckian. ‘You 
become an American citizen the moment you join our 
service. If you went to England we’d have you back or 
our old Governor would declare war on the Queen.’ 

“ ‘ We are drawing up to the tank,’ said the chap with 
his head out of the window, as he drew his knife out of 
the frame and closed the sasli and sank back into his 
seat. 

It is a critical moment,’ said the Colonel, rising. ‘I 
must protect my wife in case of an attack.’ The English¬ 
man was trembling with excitement. The party entered 
the body of the car and prepared for the imaginary 
assault. 

“ As the train stopped, one man left the car. He got 




With Gripsack . 


231 


a number of train torpedoes from the conductor, who 
was in the secret, and after placing them on the track in 
front of every wheel of the sleeper, returned with the 
announcement that he had seen a fellow skulking in 
the brush. 

“ The whistle sounded, the train drew out. As it did 
so the torpedoes exploded like a fusilade of musketry. 

“The Englishman fell to his knees with an ejacula¬ 
tion about barbarous Americans and bandits. The 
rest of the party feigned excitement and the Colonel’s 
wife uttered a cry of horror, under which one could 
detect the tone of mirth. 

“‘ We had a close call that time, gentlemen,’ said the 
train conductor, entering the car. ‘The porter had a 
close shave of it. He had a hand to hand encounter 
with one of the ruffians, who he flung from the car plat¬ 
form. He got a pistol ball through his hat.’ 

“‘Yes, boss,’said the darkey. ‘See dat?’ He held 
out an old slouch traveling hat through which he had 
torn a hole. 

“‘I believe you saved mv life, you noble fellow,’ 
remarked the Englishman. ‘ I will reward you in the 
morning.’ 

“He gave the boy ten dollars in the morning, the 
worth of his life, while we paid the same individual a 
double fee for the part he had played in the game. 

“‘It was perhaps a cruel hoax,’said the speaker in 
conclusion, ‘ but the man was so ignorant of America 
and so arrogant that it seemed a glorious opportunity 
to have a little fun with him.”— Herald. 


232 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


CHAPTER VII. 

A STARTLING EXPERIENCE. 

The remarkable experiences of drummers in their 
wild chase after trade, sound in many cases stranger 
than fiction. As they are fine embellishers of even the 
actual things which come up before them, it is not at all 
wonderful that their stories find such repetition. 

Here is a thrilling story as told by a well known 
Georgia commercial traveler. He was traveling 
through a backwoods country, shoving the business of 
his house into every cross road and village and store, 
and late one night drove into a small village and put 
up at the only place of public entertainment in the 
place. He asked for a room, being tired and broken 
down, and anxious to get to rest, and the hour being 
late—after supper, he was told by the old man who 
played the part of the proprietor, to go up one flight of 
steps, turn to his right—go up another, turn to his 
right, and he would find his room. He started, but 
being very tired, he forgot his directions, and turned to 
the right after going up the first flight of steps. A lone 
chunk of fire furnished the only light in the room, and 
by it he found his way to a chair, glanced around and 
took in the surroundings. He noticed that he would 
have a bed-fellow, and that he laid on his back and kept 
his face covered with the sheet. It was no unusual 
thing for drummers to have strange bed-fellows in 
places of the sort, and the traveler gave this matter no 
concern. As for the man in the bed having the sheet 
over his face, that might have been done to keep off the 
jnosquitoes—or it might simply have been a fancy to dp 



With Gripsack . 


2 ^ "> 
OJ 

this on the part of the sleeper. Our traveler disrobed 
himself and got into the bed by the side of his silent 
companion. He had hardly done so before the door 
was opened and a man and woman entered. They drew 
their chairs close to the fire and close together, and 
commenced to talk in soft and low tones. They hitched 
their chairs closer together, and our Georgian all at 
once found himself forgetting sleep—wide-awake— 
and intensely interested in what was being said. The 
tones became softer—and the sayings sweeter, in fact 
some of them were so sweet that the Georgian nudged 
his silent bed-fellow, who made no response. Presently 
the man’s arm stole its w T ay around the woman’s waist, 
and the Georgian nudged his partner again. By and 
by the man’s head went forward, met the woman’s 
half-way, and there was a sound in the room like the 
sudden closing of a pocket knife. 

The Georgian couldn’t stand this. He gave the sheet 
a flirt, uncovering the face of his bed-fellow, and broke 
out into a hoarse laugh. The woman screamed and fled 
from the room, followed by the man who had been 
courting her. 

The Georgian looked around at his companion to see 
how he enjoyed the fun. 

He was a cold corpse, that the man and woman had 
come in to sit up with. 

The drummer was in the wrong room. 


234 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


MY DRUMMER. 

The following is from “ I Know” of Louisville, Ky. 

Close to my open window 

In the hush of the sweet twilight, 

I sit and wistfully listen 

For the step I shall hear to-night. 

The rush and the hum of the city 
Grow fainter and far away, 

Like the prattle of innocent children 
At the close of a busy day. 

The sweet “amen ” of the choir bells 
Responds to my heart to-night, 

And touches a chord in the centre 
That is tuned with memories bright. 

And I sit by my open window 
As I have sat so oft before, 

And watch and pray for the coming 
Of the same dear step as of yore. 

Brought a flush of joyous rapture 
To my maidenly cheek and brow, 

And a diligent search of my inmost thoughts 
Where I kept my cherished vow. 

My mind was ever a roaming 
In the paths I knew he went, 

And only the voice of his coming 
Could promise me sweet content. 

And the years have shaded and brightened, 

The road has been pleasant and fair, 

Since we each took hold of the wonderful “grip ” 
And promised its burdens to share. 


^35 


With Gripsack . 

So I sit and wait in the shadow 
And the hush of the sweet twilight, 
While I watch and pray for the coming 
Of the step I shall hear to-night. 

And my heart goes out in a blessing 
For the drummers all over the land, 
For a nobler lot than the manly boys 
Never journey from sea to strand. 


HE HAD A READY TONGUE. 

The ready tongue of a salesman is indispensable in 
the make of a perfect drummer. Here is a story 
illustrative of the fact, taken from the Hartford Post: 

Not long ago a drummer was warned of the crusty 
disposition of a retailer in one of the central New York 
cities, and informed that while he had better call upon 
him, the firm would not be disappointed if he failed to 
transact any business. “ I’ll sell him," said the Hartford 
boy confidently. Arriving at the city in question, he 
paid his first call upon the man he had been warned 
against. He found him sitting upon a high stool upon 
a desk, poring over the pages of a ledger. As the 
drummer entered, he just turned his head, took in the 
sample, case, and said, “ Humph !” and went on with 
his figures. After a lapse of five minutes he said, with¬ 
out looking up : 

“ If you are a drummer, I don’t want to see you, so 
don’t waste time here.” 

“ But I am not a drummer,” was the reply. 

“ What are you, then ?” inquired the retailer. 



236 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

“ I am an ambassador of commerce,” answered the 
salesman, nothing daunted. 

“ Ambassader what? Well, I can’t talk to you.” 

“ If you only knew it, there is a man in one of the 
leading institutions in Hartford, that would give a 
hundred dollars to talk with me.” 

“What sort of man is he?” 

“He’s deaf and dumb.” 

At this response, the retailer came down from his 
high stool, and before he left, the drummer had his 
name in his book for a handsome bill of goods. 


HE MET HIS MATCH. 

Talk about pretty girls—but she was a wild flower and 
no mistake. She got on the train to go over to Meridian 
from Vicksburg and she was all alone. There was a 
sort of sidelong movement among four or five men, but 
a drummer from Philadelphia got there first. He 
grabbed up his grip and walked square up to her seat 
and took possession of it without asking a question, and 
in ten minutes he seemed perfectly at home. She 
answered his questions briefly, and he had the hardest 
work to keep up conversation, and as the train approached 
Jackson, she suddenly said : 

“ I want to telegraph papa from here. Can you help 
me ?” 

“ Oh ! certainly. I have a blank in my pocket. Write 
your telegram and I will run into the office with it.” 

We missed him when the train started, but by and by 
he was found in another car, his hat crushed down and 
his nerves all on edge. When asked what had happened 






With Gripsack . 237 

he drew forth the telegram that the girl had requested 
him to send. It read : 

“ Bring your shot-gun with you to pop over a drummer 
who has dreadfully annoyed me. Shoot to kill !” 

“To think,” he gasped, “ that one so fair could be so 
murderous. Why, I’m all in a sweat. I want some of 
you to stand by me.” 

We got his “grip” from the seat, traded hats and 
coats with him, and the way he slid from the depot when 
the train reached Meridian, caused a porter to observe: 

“ Well, now, but that white face belongs to an invalid, 
and them legs to a deer. What sort o’ coon is dat enny 
way ?” 


ESTABLISHING A CHARACTER. 

Experienced commercial travelers who have sound 
sense and good judgment, never disparage a competitor. 
It is only the young fellow in pin-feathers, who thinks he 
can make an impression by running the goods of a rival 
house. The boy is particularly verdant, who, having 
changed houses, voluntarily or otherwise, egales a mer¬ 
chant with his grievances, and the tricks, traps, and 
chicanery of his former employers. Such fellows are 
sized up at once as disreputable, and never by any 
chance make a favorable impression. What respect 
can a country merchant have for a traveling man with 
whom he has dealt, when the latter, upon changing to 
another concern, attempts, in order to secure an order, 
to abuse and belittle the standing of his former employ¬ 
ers and the goods they sell. Instances of this are com- 



5 38 O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 

paratively infrequent occurrences, but young men just 
starting on the road, who have a reputation to make, 
should be as careful in regarding the reputation of their 
principals as they are in establishing a character for 
themselves. 


USE THE BOYS WELL. 

Some country merchants do not seem to understand 
the importance of treating every drummer well who calls 
on them. We can’t blame a man for occasionally getting 
out of patience, for the travelers’ association, like every 
other organization on earth, has its doubtful members, 
and these doubtful members often make respectable 
merchants vow eternal vengeance on the whole fraternity. 
With all of that you can get rid of a man peaceably 
with a little well contrived scheming, and retain his good 
will. This may cause you a little individual hardship, 
but it will help you in the end. Say and think what 
you may, the fact still remains that a town is in hard 
luck when it secures the enmity of “ the men on the 
road,” for no class of people can injure the prospects of 
a little country town more effectually than this regiment 
of talkers going all over the country advertising the 
business men as “chumps” and their town as “ rotten.” 
Use the boys well, and you will find it will pay you big 
in time .—Southern Traveler . 



With Gripsack . 


239 


HE TELLS IT HIMSELF. 

A Boston cigar drummer, whose residence is in 
Taunton, tells a story on himself with great glee. He 
was in Hartford, Conn., one evening, and after lounging 
about the hotel in disconsolate loneliness for an hour or 
two, he asked the clerk if there was anything going on 
in town. The clerk suggested a masquerade ball that 
was in progress. The drummer thought the idea was a 
good one, but he hadn’t any costume. The clerk sug¬ 
gested that he should borrow the colored porter’s over¬ 
alls and jumper, black his face and hands, and go. The 
suggestion was promptly acted upon, and for an hour 
the bogus colored man talked African English and had 
a high old time among the masked belles, finally the 
signal to unmask was given, and when the masks came 
off a great wave of darkness sw’ept over the hall. Every 
blessed man, woman and child in the place was a full- 
blooded negro ! 

The drummer cast one panic stricken look at the 
crowd, and then made for the door. When he reached 
the hotel he resumed his old time personality and set 
up the wine .—Brockton (Mass.) Enterprise. 


WHAT CONSTITUTES A GOOD SALESMAN. 

The following is the address delivered by Mr. John 
Field, of the firm of Young, Smyth, Field & Co., of Phila¬ 
delphia, at a recent meeting :— 

Mr. President :— 

The question submitted to us this evening is : “What 
Constitutes a Good Salesman ?” 



240 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


In the first place, he ought to be a man , strong, vigor¬ 
ous and brave. 

If we inquire as to who should be our Lawyers, Physi¬ 
cians or Architects , our reply is: men educated and trained 
to their respective professions ; so we say and contend 
that a salesman ought to be thoroughly drilled and 
trained to his business, not only as to how to sell his 
goods, but also as to the value and character of the 
merchandise which he handles. In regard to his per¬ 
sonal habits and character, many contend that to be suc¬ 
cessful he must abandon temperate and correct princi¬ 
ples. I remonstrated with a once prosperous Market 
street merchant in regard to his course in life. He, 
pointing to his large warehouse, said : u As long as I 
am connected with that establishment, I cannot change 
my course.” Poor fellow, his course brought upon him 
moral, physical and financial ruin. Now, I know it is 
earnestly contended, that a man, to be successful, must 
drink. In an experience of thirty years on the street, I 
have never known one such to have been finally success¬ 
ful, and I challenge any one in the audience to point out 
one. 

Again, I consider that a salesman should be so evenly 
balanced that he would never need whip, or spur, or hit, 
or bridle. Some men are not successful because they are 
too fussy,—I know no better word to use,—“ they are 
like a horse tortured by flies on a summer day ; he 
switches his tail, gnaws the bit and kicks against the 
shafts, but never kills a fly, the only thing that he accom¬ 
plishes is to work himself up into a sweat, but does no 
good. A dyspeptic, ill-natured man will not be successful. 
I was crossing the Atlantic on one occasion ; at midnight 
the ship stopped suddenly ; meeting the captain, I 
inquired the cause ; only a hot journal, it lacked oil, and 


IVith Gripsack. 


241 


began to moan and creak, wearing itself out and every¬ 
thing that came in contact with it. Its fellow journal 
moved along smoothly, doing its work well because it 
had plenty of oil. These two journals represent two dis¬ 
tinct classes of men, the former unhappy and unsuccess¬ 
ful, the latter happy and successful. The first will drive 
away customers, the latter will draw them to him. 

Again, a salesman must have some enthusiasm, or he 
will never succeed. That western editor made a good 
reply to the inquiry, What can be done without enthu¬ 
siasm ? “Rot,” said he. Still he should be self pos¬ 
sessed and not too easily excited. A man of this charac¬ 
ter will always get the advantage over the nervous, 
excitable man. I have heard these two characters com¬ 
pared to two boilers of the same capacity ; put on each a 
pressure of 500 lbs. to the square inch ; one bursts all to 
pieces, the other remains undisturbed, bearing all the 
pressure. What is the difference between them ? The 
one is weak, the other is strong. 

To be successful he must be a good judge of human 
nature, or he must have tact. Some one has said that tact 
is a delicate, subtle gift, almost like a sixth sense, which 
enables its possessor to grasp a situation, and say and 
do the best thing in the best manner, at the right 
moment. It never rushes in too soon, nor arrives on the 
ground too late ; it is never off its guard, but ever ready 
to take advantage of the situation. He needs preemin¬ 
ently this gift. He has to meet the cool, calculating 
German, the iron-clad Scotch Irishman, the sharp dealing 
son of Abraham, the broad-gauge Western man, the 
genial Southerner, the man with rigid, puritanical prin¬ 
ciples, and the man with as loose and as iudefinable prin¬ 
ciples as Bob Ingersoll. He must be (without sacrificing 


242 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


honor) “all things to all men, that he may gain the 
more.” 

But you will ask : Can a good man be a salesman ? 
Undoubtedly he can ! Now I do not mean a man to be 
so good that a fly will not light on his nose ; or so good 
that he is good for nothing; I do not mean that softish 
goodness that has no snap, or vim or pluck. “ If a Chris¬ 
tian is but a bootblack ,” said John New r ton, “ lie ought to 
be the best in the parish.” So I believe. 

Put down three P’s : Politeness , Patience , Perseverance , 
add to these energy, invincible determination, self- 
reliance, civility and generosity ; if you have not already 
done so, marry a good wife ; love truth and virtue ; love 
God and your fellowmen, and success is ensured.— 
Merchant and Salesman . 


THE DRUMMER’S BABY. 

It was Saturday night; the hotel was alive 
With the jovial “ Knights of the Road 

Who had come in to “ Sunday together ” and find 
A short respite from care’s heavy load. 

There was Brewster of Boston, in hats, caps, and furs, 
And Smith of New York selling wine ; 

There was Gray of St. Paul, wholesale clothing, and two 
Moses Bluminbergs in the same line. 

There were Mason and Perry, and Brown and McGue 
Davis, Gallagher, Sims, and the rest, 

And each with the other was vying that night 
In his good natured humor and jest. 



With Gripsack. 243 

For the week's work was finished, and you may believe 
I am not talking far from the right, 

When I say that the “ drummer’s ” best day on the road 
Is the sweet welcome Saturday night. 

The yarns went around and the laughter and shout 
Filled the air with the notes of wild joy, 

When a man in the party abruptly inquired : 

What’s the matter with Billy McCoy ? 

He wired me on Thursday he’d be here to-night 
And for me to engage him a bunk— 

If I didn’t so well know the ways of the chap, 

I might think he was off on a drunk. 

As a matter of fact, boys, he was nearly drunk 
The last time I saw him, with joy, 

For he had just got a telegram from his home 
. Announcing a fine baby boy. 

You know he was married just twelve months ago 
And never a man in his life, 

Was prouder, nor happier than our old Mac 
With his lovely and beautiful wife. 

And you never saw anyone wilder with glee 
When he spoke of his new baby boy,— 

Said he, “ I’m the happiest man on the ground 
Or my name isn’t Billy McCoy. 

He ought to be hereby this time. Landlord, say,— 
Boys, let up on your clatter and fuss,— 

How’s the train from the West ? “ In ten minutes ago, 

And here at the door is the ’bus.” 

“ Hello, boys !” “ Hi, Billy.” “ Ah, daddy, how goes ?” 

“ Shake, father—long life to the lad.” 

“ Thanks, fellows, who told you the glorious news ? 
Rustier Davis, I’ll bet ; that’s too bad 


244 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


For I wanted to tell you myself—never mind 
Now you know it, so fancy my joy 
At learning while five hundred miles from my home, 

I’m the sire of a beautiful boy. 

“ I've been out for three months, the firm wired me to-day 
To make this town and then come in. 

So on Monday I start toward my wife and my boy. 

Do you wonder I’m on a broad grin ? 

Oh, Landlord, old boy, any letter for me ?” 

“There’s a telegram.” “Ah ! give it here; 

(I told them to wire once every day 
Of the wife, and baby so dear).” 

Proud Billy McCoy with emotion ill hid 
Grasps the message and reads it, his brow 
So lately suffused with the flush of wild joy 
Is as white as death’s marble just now. 

He reels to the floor, with the telegram clutched 
In his grasp. Kind hearts comfort essay, 

And they read the sad tidings, “ Your beautiful boy 
And your sweet , loving wife , died to-day." 

Max Welton. 


THE SAD EXPERIENCE OF A DRUMMER. 

It is a New York drummer who tells this story to the 
reporter of the St. Paul Globe: 

“I came thro’ Po’keepsieonce,” remarked a New York 
drummer. “ It must have been on some vacation time, for 
about fifty Vassar girls got on. They came into the 
car where I was, and one of the prettiest of the whole 
lot took part of my seat, while her companions all stood 



With Gripsack. 


245 


around her within hearing distance. She seemed to 
know that I was a traveling man, for, said she, referring 
to the window: 

“ ‘ Can’t I open that for you ?’ 

“ I thanked her, being so surprised that I could not 
quite comprehend the situation. Her companions, and, 
in fact, everybody in the car, became interested, and 
they all directed their attention to us. 

“ ‘ Are you on your way home ?’ she asked. 

“ I told her I was on a business trip. 

“ ‘ Have you traveled much alone?’ 

“‘Quite a good deal,’ I replied, not at all pleased with 
the unenviable position I was forced to occupy. With¬ 
out giving me a chance to ask any question, she con¬ 
tinued: 

“ ‘ Can’t I buy you some fruit or oranges ?’ 

“‘I don’t care about any,’ I replied. 

“ ‘Wouldn’t you like a book or pamphlet to read ? I 
have some in my traveling bag. No? Well, I know 
you’ll let me turn the next seat, so as to give you more 
room.’ 

“I left the seat and told her there was absolutely 
nothing that I wanted. As I made my way out to the 
smoking car nearly everybody laughed, including the 
Vassal* girls. One of the latter took my place. To this 
day, I never see a woman coming toward my seat that I 
don’t think of that experience. I’ve heard men say they 
would like to have it tried on them, but no man likes to 
be made a fool of, and he certainly appears in that light 
when a lot of school girls start in to make him appear 
ridiculous.” 


246 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


HE WAS FULL OF WRATH. 

Among the well-known hat travelers from New York 
is one who is noted for being exceedingly nervous, and if 
a customer does not keep an appointment sharp on time 
he will walk back and forth in the hotel corridor like a 
caged animal. While stopping in a large city in Penn¬ 
sylvania, not remarkable for its clear atmosphere, lately, 
he was made the victim of a cruel practical joke, but 
which, nevertheless, is too good to keep. Another 
traveling man, who dresses somewhat in the picturesque 
Southern loose attire, and who hails from the Quaker 
city, was introduced to the nervous New Yorker as a 
large Southern buyer from Texas. Intense excitement. 
“Goods ! oh, yes, the finest line in the trade. And bar¬ 
gains! well, I should smile! I never come to this city 
unless I have bargains! Will you be so kind as to look ?” 
The gentleman from Texas was obliging. He looked, 
and placed a large order—some $1,200; but, alas ! he 
made such absurdly low offers upon some of the goods, 
and made the entire sale dependent upon their acceptance, 
that the New Yorker was in despair. “ Would he kindly 
give him time to telegraph to the firm ?” After a while 
this was reluctantly agreed to, and the important 
question, with particulars, went forth. Back came the 
characteristic answer, “Yes, provided you can make 
other sales.” Joyful news ! The sale was consummated, 
the order made out—and then came the grand laugh. 
The boys smiled—a sort of seductive smile—with a 
circular piece of glass between each lip. The New 
Yorker smiled, too—a grim and ghastly smile—but inside 
he was full of wrath, and it will be a very cold day when 
he gets left again in that way. 




With Gripsack. 


247 


YOU WILL KNOW HIM. 

You can recognize a commercial traveler in an indis¬ 
criminate crowd with as much ease as you can pick a 
half immersed fly out of a plate of ice-cream. He is 
always well dressed—I doubt if there are any exceptions 
to this rule. This does not mean merely that he wears 
expensive clothes, but that he exercises good taste in 
dress. Frank in face, with a hearty, bluff address, a 
good word and warm grip for every friend, he is a 
splendid fellow to meet at all times and all places, and 
is just the best kind of company in rain or shine. He 
has to make himself agreeable and well liked to succeed, 
and those agents who are naturally pleasant or can 
best assume the style of a pleasant person, are the ones 
with the largest sales to their credit at the end of the 
year .—Hatter and Furrier . 


JOKE AGAINST JOKE. 

“Just before I left the road for good and all,” began 
a dry goods merchant in the Merchants’ Club, recently, 
says the New York Herald , “I had one comical 
experience that I shall never forget. 

“ There were several of us traveling together,” he con¬ 
tinued. “ We had been skylarking all along the road, 
playing off pranks on one another, and having a pretty 
good time generally. It was to be my farewell trip, 
and the boys made a dead set at me for that reason. 
After awhile the novelty wore away and life became 
burdensome. 

“ I tried to call a halt, but it was no go. One fellow, 



248 


O'er Rail arid Cross-Ties 


finding that I was annoyed, persisted in his attempts to 
put up games on me, and he succeeded pretty well. 

“ I said nothing for awhile, but resolved to get even 
if it took me the balance of my life. 

“The boys separated at New Orleans,” added the 
speaker. “ Some of them were booked for Texas, while 
my practical-joking friend and I continued up the 
Mississippi valley. We reached Memphis early one 
morning by the Jackson route. We were driven imme¬ 
diately to the old Peabody House. 

“ I had stopped there half a hundred times before and 
had struck up a great friendship with Wiley, the second 
waiter. I knew the darkey would do anything in the 
world for me. I had matured a scheme by which I 
proposed to retaliate on my tormentor. 

“We were shown to our rooms to fix up a little for 
breakfast. I sent for Wiley and he came up to my 
room. I said to him : ‘ Wiley, I want you to wait on 
me yourself while 1 am here. I’ll tell you the reason. 
I know I can rely on you, and I’ll pay you well for your 
trouble. I am going North with a friend of mine who 
has recently gone insane. He is not violent, but the 
doctors say that he ought not to eat too much. 

“ ‘ I want you to follow these instructions : No mat¬ 
ter what he orders at meals, bring him nothing but 
toast and tea. He is so crazy that you can easily con¬ 
vince him that you have brought him what he called 
for. If he grow T s violent just pat him on the back of the 
head ; that will bring him around.’ 

“Wiley said he understood me. I gave him a couple 
of dollars and told him I would give him more before I 
left. 

“ My friend and I entered the breakfast-room 
together. Wiley had informed all the waiters that he 


With Gripsack . 


249 

was to serve a crazy man. They eyed us suspiciously. 
My friend thought it very strange, and asked me if I 
noticed anything peculiar about him 0 I told him that 
he looked as usual, only that his hair was a little longer 
than he generally wore it. 

“ Wiley came for the order. I called for soft-boiled 
eggs, chops and bacon, a cup of coffee and a plate of 
wheat cakes. 

“‘Oh, bring me the same,’ said my companion. 

‘ Hang it all,’ he added, * I never know what I want now. 
If I was home I could eat an ox.’ 

“ Wiley caught the remark, It coincided with the 
impression that my words had left with him c He left 
to fill my order. Presently he returned, bringing me 
my breakfast nicely cooked and served, and a plate of 
toast and .a cup of tea for my friend. 

“The latter turned to the waiter and said : ‘ I guess 
you’ve made a mistake here, my friend. My order was 
the same as this gentleman’s.’ 

“Yes, dat’s so, cap’en,’ said the waiter. ‘Yo’order 
de same as de other gemmen, an’ I done brought it. 
Der ’tis. Der’s you’ eggs and der’s you’ chops an’ bacon, 
an’ der’s you’ coffee. Dat’s right, cap’en. You’ break¬ 
fast is right afore yo’.’ 

“As he spoke, the darkey pointed out articles, some 
real and some imaginary, with his long, bony fingers. 

“ My friend looked at him in amazement. ‘What do 
you mean, waiter, by standing here and telling me that ? 
Are you crazy ?’ 

“ ‘ I done tell yo’ exact truff, cap’en,’ replied the 
waiter in his most persuasive manner. ‘ Yo’ brekfuss is 
right afore yo’, same as dat gem’men’s precisely.’ 

“ ‘ If you are not crazy yourself, do you take me to be ? 


250 


Oer Rail and Cross -Ties 


Or do you think I’m blind or drunk?* replied my com¬ 
panion, hotly. 

“‘Go back this instant,* he continued, ‘and fill my 
order, or I will have you turned off. Go, I say.* He 
spoke with a rising inflection, which startled the waiter, 
and caused every inmate in the room to glance in wonder 
at us. 

“ I caught the waiter’s eye and nodded my head. He 
took it for the further instruction, and began to pat the 
back of the gentleman’s head. This was too much for 
my friend. 

“ He leaped to his feet, uttering an oath, and over¬ 
setting his chair at the same time. ‘You black rascal,' 
he said, ‘ what do you mean by putting your nasty hands 
on me? I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.* He 
made a move for Wiley. 

“The latter dashed for the kitchen. The other waiters 
huddled in a corner. My friend thought better of his 
intention and turned to me to make a remark. I could 
hold back my mirth no longer. I laughed till I cried. 
I shouted and fairly yelled with delight. 

“ ‘ What are you laughing at ?’ asked the angry man. 
Then he saw through the whole affair. ‘ So this is some 
of your wit, is it ? You may laugh, and it may be a 
good joke, but by Jove, I came near murdering that 
darkey.’ 

“ 4 1 say,’ said he, after he had resumed his seat, ‘sup¬ 
pose we quit joking on the rest of this trip. I believe 
we break with the honors in your favor, but I don’t 
want to run such a chance of murdering a man or 
making such a fool of myself again.’ ” 


With Gripsack . 


25 1 


BASHFUL AS A MAIDEN. 

The lawyer making his first argument, the minister 
preaching his first sermon, are not more noticeably em¬ 
barrassed than the drummer making his maiden trip. 
The old hand on the road “ spots ” him at a glance, and 
if he be of a charitable spirit may take him under his 
wing and teach him a few of the ropes. These well- 
meant efforts, however, are more liable than not to be 
repulsed by the tyro who is put out in the first instance 
by the ease with which he has been discovered by his 
more experienced fellow-craftsman, and feels consumed 
with curiosity in the next place to know how he did it. 
Were he asked the question, the veteran would probably 
reply that experienced men on the road do not travel 
with brand new “grips,” nor do they in particular use 
gilt-edged order books, but content themselves with 
some substantial linen-bound affair, nor do they pester 
the conductor with innumerable and useless questions, 
but most of all does the raw recruit bear about with him¬ 
self an air that is patent to the older traveling man as a 
title on the cover of a book. 

Once safely ensconced at his hotel, the young drummer 
who has announced his arrival by means of postal cards a 
day before, sallies forth immediately to take, as he fondly 
imagines, the town by storm. He knows that he is trav¬ 
eling for a good house, that its stock is good and “ clean,” 
and that its prices are equally as low as those of its 
competitors, and he thinks that all that’s necessary is for 
him to present his card, and if goods are wanted, to take 
orders. The first shock he receives is when he is asked 
by the store-keeper if this is his first trip, and when he 
is obliged to answer in the affirmative, he wonders how 


252 O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 

in thunder everybody knows it. The next surprise he 
meets with is that although stock may be low on the lines 
he carries, yet as “Jim Brown, who travels for Smith & 
Jones, is an old friend of mine, and will be here in a day 
or two, and I guess I’ll wait for him.’' In vain he urges 
the excellence of his goods, the quality in matter of price, 
and even, perhaps, makes a cut from regular rates with 
the expectation of thus getting trade, he is informed that 
“ he guesses Jirh will meet that, anyway,” and he discov¬ 
ers for the first time that friendship goes a long way in 
doing business in the country. His next visit may be to 
a customer of the house, and he may be favored with an 
order, but will just as likely as not be told that it is the 
last his house will get, as the customer does not think 
much of the way he is being treated. The said house 
probably having drawn on him for a bill that is six 
months overdue. Thus he progresses, getting acquainted 
with people who will afterwards be glad to see him, get- 
tingthe rough corners knocked off him, seeing the world 
in a new light from what he has ever before done, and 
learning that the successful drummer is simply an exem¬ 
plification of one of nature’s oldest laws, “ the survival of 
the fittest .”—Southern Traveler. 

-*- 


TOLD THIS TIME IN RHYME. 

Ten weary, foot-sore travelers, 

All in a woful plight, 

Sought shelter at a wayside inn 
One dark and stormy night. 



With Gripsack . 


253 


Nine beds—no more—the landlord said 
I have to offer you ; 

To each of eight a single room, 

But the ninth must serve for two. 

A din arose, the troubled host, 

Could only scratch his head, 

For of those tired men no two 
Could occupy one bed. 

The puzzled host was soon at ease, 

He was a clever man, 

And so to please his guests devised 
The most ingenious plan. 


A 

B 

C 

D 

E 

F 

G 

H 

I 


In room marked “A,” two men were placed 
The third belonged to “ B,” 

The fourth to “ C ” was then assigned 
The fifth retired to “ D.” 

In “ E ” the sixth was stored away, 

In “ F” the seventh man, 

The eighth and ninth, in “G” and “ H ” 
And then to “A ” he ran 

Wherein the host as I have said 
Laid two travelers by, 

Then taking one—the tenth and last— 

He lodged him safe in “ I.” 

Nine single rooms, a room for each 
Were made to serve for ten, 

And this it is that puzzled me 
And many wiser men. 


Boston Tablet, 











254 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


A DRUMMER’S CHEEK. 

A wasp went buzzing to his work, 
And various things did tackle ; 
He stung a boy, and then a dog, 
And made a rooster cackle. 

At last upon a drummer’s cheek 
He settled down to drill ; 

He prodded there for half an hour, 
And then he broke his bill. 


THE DEAD DRUMMER. 

Who is there dead ? A drummer they say. 
Telegraph his house “collect/’ they’ll pay, 

Get him ready to ship by express. 

Fix him up tidy in his every day dress, 

He was a traveling man, accustomed to roam, 

Now he is traveling towards his long home. 

Drop a warm tear on his dead cold face, 

So small a tribute won’t take up much space. 

Nail up the box here, tight, on the spot, 

The Lord likes the sample, He’ll take the whole lot 

Anonymous. 


WAITING. 

Waiting at a station ; waiting for a train *, 
Waiting in the sunshine ; waiting in the rain ; 
Waiting, weary, hungry ; nary bite nor bunk ; 
Waiting at a junction for a train to junc, 





With Gripsack. 


255 


Waiting at a tavern or a grand hotel ; 

Waiting for those samples which are bound to sell ! 
Waiting for a money order by express ; 

Waiting ! why it lingers, Satan couldn’t guess. 

Waiting for the customers you customary cuss ; 
Waiting on their fooling ; waiting while they fuss ; 
Waiting for one partner, “ smiling” ’cross the street ; 
Waiting past your train time—order incomplete. 

Waiting for a buyer is our fate below ; 

Waiting raise in wages—always mighty slow ! 

Waiting is a habit drummers have to learn ; 

Waiting is our Hoodoo, met at every turn. 

Waiting, ever waiting, order books to fill ; 

Waiting is but trial of our weighty will ! 

Waiting smiles of Fortune, looking now so glum ; 
Waiting the Eternal, waiting Kingdom Come. 

Waiting for a ticket o’er the River Styx ; 

Waiting for our final trip account to fix ; 

Waiting for the dawning of resurrection morn ; 
Waiting, waiting, Gabriel, to hear your golden horn. 

By John H. Forey. 


A DRUMMER CONSTANTLY. 

There’s a queer poetic strummer 
Who always uses “ Drummer ” 

As descriptive of a certain traveling class. 

It seems to me a pity, 

In his efforts to be witty, 

That he never gives that epithet a pass. 



256 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

He’s effusive in his kisses, 

Occasion never misses, 

On the bright eyes of his sweetheart to dilate, 

And of reaching out to sip 
The nectar from her lip, 

Just previous to the parting at the gate. 

He sings of woman true, 

And what would poor “ drummers ” do 
If they could not find a pearl in petticoats ? 

Of their being obliged to roam, 

And leave their dears at home, 

While they ramble through the pasture with the goats 

He tells of weary miles, 

And crawling over styles , 

To meet his better half the “drummer” flies. 

And if any one dare say, 

That a “ drummer ” when away, 

Goes a flirting, most assuredly he lies. 

And whene’er a “drummer” marries, 

He invariably carries 
The picture of his dearie snugly hid, 

So whene’er his watch he winds, 

He inevitably finds 

Her “ counterfeit presentment ” on the lid. 

Now all this is quite amusing, 

And well worth one’s perusing. 

To his sentiment I heartily agree, 

If this old poetic strummer 
Will only drop the “Drummer,” 

And substitute the name therefor “ C. T ” 

■" j ■ ■ ■ . - . - 


With Gripsack . 


257 


A DRUMMER’S DISPATCH. 

A drummer set out on his trip one day ; 

His heart was light and he felt quite gay, 

As he thought of the orders, more large than small, 

He expected to get from his customers all. 

An experienced drummer, a veteran he, 

Selling goods thro’ the South from mountain to sea ; 
His house was the oldest, his goods were the best, 

His friends ever ready to look and invest. 

He had tips and he’d letters from every State ; 

Some wrote they’d buy early, some said they’d buy late ; 
For he was a drummer of no little renown 
From New York City, not Baltimore town. 

The first place he made he did very well, 

Tho’ he didn’t brag much, he’d expected to sell ; 

On this trip last spring, many thousands he’d sold, 

That he’d beat it this year he felt very bold. 

But alas ! at the next town a telegram came ! 

His spirits went down ; he grew awfully tame! 

No mortal on earth could have felt more sore ; 

His luck was now worse than ever before. 

How different now from the drummer just out, 

With his samples complete and his heart so stout ; 

The salesman who started with spirits so light 
Was now, indeed, in the sorriest plight. 

He looked at his message and read it once more, 

And he read it fully forty times o’er and o’er ; 

Each time he read it he felt worse and worse, 

He barely could sigh—he was too weak to curse. 


258 Ger Rail and Cross-Ties 

With never a word and scarcely a look, 

Sadly he folded his thin order book ; 

Homeward he turned, with samples and grip. 

To see he was “ rattled ” you needed no “ tip.” 

Now here was the cause of his sorrow and woe, 

And this was the message that wounded him so ; 

This cut was the deepest, these words most unkind : 

“ Return samples at once—your house has assigned.” 

He went out like a “ tourist,” he returned like a tramp, 
As a scout on the back track sneaks back to his camp ; 
Like a half-drowned rat or a bob-tailed mouse 
Is a drummer recalled by a “ busted ” house. 

— Clothing Gazette. 


MAYOR LONDONER’S ADDRESS. 

“It has been my pleasing duty to welcome, during 
the time I have held office, many bodies of men who 
travel towards the setting sun, commonly called conven¬ 
tions. But I want to confess that it is in my heart to 
give you a warmer welcome and throw wider the gates 
of friendship than to any of the other bodies. [Great 
applause.] It has been my good fortune to meet the 
drummer face to face for many a year, and I know him 
better than any other class of men. And I want to say 
is that whatever measure of success I have met in this 
city, I owe to a drummer. It was away back in the— 
but hold on, I saw in the papers that the governor was 
to deliver a short address, and I a shorter one. How 
much time have I got?” The modest request was met 
with shouts of “ All day,” “ Go ahead,” “ As long as you 



With Gripsack 259 

Want,” etc:. The mayor heaved a sigh of satisfaction 
and proceeded : 

“Away back in the sixties I first met what was to me 
a curiosity—a drummer. He hailed, I think, from 
Chicago, which was even then the centre of Western 
trade. St. Louis had not yet sent drummers out this 
way. It’s a queer thing. I think there are a lot of 
Chicago men here, yet I don’t hear any applause.” 

This had the effect of stirring up the Chicago con¬ 
tingent and they set up a wild howl that raised a 
general roar. “This young man was named More- 
head, and he represented the firm of J. W. Deane & Co. 
He found his way off to little Denver, away from the 
beaten paths of travel, then with a population of 3,500. 
He looked me up and down and sized me up. We had 
no Dun or Bradstreet then, and they did not trouble 
themselves about young men who came away out to 
the west to make their fortune. We were glad when 
we got a chance to buy any goods. This young man 
seemed pleased with me, and was kind enough to sell 
me a bill of goods. [Great laughter.] Well, after 
awhile the goods came and the young man came often, 
and others followed in his wake. Colorado owes in a 
great measure its prosperity to the pioneer drum¬ 
mers of the early days. 

“ Later, that young man was taken ill out here and 
I heard about it, and I found him down on Larimer 
street. It was at the Planters’ House, I think, where 
the Tabor block now stands. My wife and I took care 
of him until life was nearly gone. We telegraphed to 
his people in Boston and they came on, but it was not 
long before he breathed his last. They took his body 
away, and on the way they stopped at Chicago, and it 
was there and at that time that I got my first knowledge 


260 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


of our association that I am told has now grown to 60,000 
men. The Chicago drummers weie organized and 
took charge of the body. They gave military honors to 
their dead comrade when they laid him to rest. 

“ I see by the papers that it was a little band of eighteen 
or nineteen men who met in Ohio and started this asso¬ 
ciation, but my recollections will always go back to the 
drummers of Chicago as the men who really founded 
those associations. I always have a sneaking fondness 
for drummers of all kinds and from all places. We 
know that outside of a newspaper man there is no one 
who can work harder and talk faster and tell more lies 
than a good drummer. [Laughter.] But now on that 
point: We see a great many jokes in the newspapers 
and hear a great many stories about the drummers, but 
let me tell you that in no profession must a man make 
so clear a showing as in that of a commercial traveler. 
We hear of the drummer going around making love to 
the girls and running away with other men's wives and 
sitting up at night and playing poker and getting drunk 
and being locked up with d. t.’s and that sort of thing. 
But that doesn’t go. Let me tell you what I know about 
a drummer. He goes out with his samples and works 
hard. It doesn’t matter what his employer thinks about 
his looks. It doesn’t matter whether or not he owns 
good clothes and looks pretty. It’s his order-book that 
tells the story. He is known by his deeds, not by his 
faith. [Applause.] The lawyer may lose his cases and 
the doctor may kill his patients. Their mistakes are 
mostly hidden. Even the blacksmith may go on year 
after year shoeing horses badly and not be found out. 
But it is not so with the drummer. His work speaks 
for itself. If it does not come up to the mark he will 
be put into that commodity which usually heads our 




26 i 


With Gripsack. 

bills of fare.” Great applause followed this dry joke, 
which seemed to grow funnier the more it was thought 
over. He continued : “I had an idea in my mind that 
I would tell you a lot of awfully funny stories, and I 
had gathered together a lot of old Pucks and Judges and 
almanacs and had sandwiched them together, but as I 
look upon these bright and intelligent faces before me 
the idea recurs to me that this is the worst place in the 
world to get off any old gags. [Laughter.] 

“ To you we are indebted for many happy hours. For 
if you cannot tell a story that is founded on fact you 
are always prepared to tell one anyhow. You live to 
please. A good traveling man is and should be a good 
judge of human nature. A gentleman in every sense of 
the word. A man pleasing and of good address. A 
man like that is sure to win both wealth and happiness. 
I know traveling men are always wealthy. [Applause.] 
If he is not he ought to be, for a more contented lot of 
men cannot be found anywhere upon the globe.” 


PLEASING A GRUMBLER. 

“ It doesn’t require much of a man to sell goods to a 
merchant who is anxious to buy, but unfortunately that 
class of merchants is apparently very small,” said a 
Chicago commercial man. “The genuine salesman is 
the man who can sell goods to men when they do not 
want to buy. That is where the fine work must be 
done. For instance, you call on a merchant on a cold, 
dreary day when there isn’t a customer in his store. 
He wants nothing, and if he did require anything, trade 
is so distressingly slack that he would order nothing ; 



262 O'er Rail a?id Cross-Ties 

and, to add to your discomfiture, he is at that moment 
employed in marking off goods purchased of your¬ 
self on your last trip, and he has complaints to make of 
the dilatory manner in which the goods have been 
delivered, and is quite sure there are items in the bill he 
did not order, and then he had a bone to pick with your 
people respecting some new arrangement of not charg¬ 
ing empty boxes on invoices, or something else is sure 
to be the matter. A good salesman will listen patiently 
through it all and smooth over the wrong-doing of 
others. A merchant under such circumstances will 
declare that he wants nothing. I encountered such a 
one recently. He was gruff and sought to dismiss me 
without giving me a chance to hardly say ‘How dy’e 
do’ to him. I proceeded to open my sample case just 
the same, for I knew I had something that he would 
be interested in looking at. He bbserved my move¬ 
ments and remarked : ‘Did I not tell you that I had 
more sellers than buyers, and that I would not look at 
an article?’ ‘Well,’I remarked, ‘you don’t mind me 
having a look at the samples, myself, do you, for trade 
has been so bad I have not seen them for the last six 
days.’ That brought a smile to his face, and he warmed 
up and bought a respectable bill of me.” 


THE BEST WAS BAD. 

The drummer is supposed to get the best that’s going 
everywhere, and it is not often that he fails. Sometimes, 
however, the best is very poor, indeed, as witness this 
incident told by a well-known Macon traveler: “To 
show you what we drummers have to put up with 





With Gripsack. 


263 


sometimes,” said this Knight of the Road, “I’ll tell you 
of an incident. One night, not long ago, I got into a town, 
which shall be nameless, at 1 o’clock a. m. At the only 
hotel in the town I was told they were ‘full up.’ As I 
had to have a bed somewhere, I was given the privilege 
of sleeping in a room where two other men, rank 
strangers to me, were already asleep. I accepted. At 
4 o’clock one of the other two left, waking everybody in 
the vicinity when he did so. At 6 o’clock I had to leave, 
and, of course, my getting up awoke my remaining 
room-mate. When I went to make my toilet I found the 
room sans water, sans towel, sans soap. I blundered 
down to where I know a water-bucket ought to be, and 
filled my pitcher, then bathed my face and washed my 
hands without soap, and had to use a clean handkerchief 
for a towel. How much did I pay for that sort of alleged 
accommodation ? Two dollars a day .—Buffalo Saturday 
Tidings . 


HE WORE A MOTHER HUBBARD. 

Will Hansard, a traveling salesman of Louisville, 
Ky., was last week pursuing his calling in Bell and 
Harlan counties, Ky. Just before starting back to 
Louisville he passed the night at a farm-house in Harlan. 
When he went to bed he hung his trousers on a chair 
near the window. Next morning the trousers were gone 
and no one knew where. Some one passing in the night 
had reached in at the window and taken them, for his 
host was above suspicion. Mr. Hansard called loudly 
for the farmer, expecting to borrow a pair of trousers 
from him. His wife came to the door and said her 



264 


O'er Rail and Cross'Ties 


husband had gone hunting an hour before, and as he 
had only one pair of trousers he had very naturally worn 
them. Here was a dilemma, but his hostess, who was a 
woman of expedients, solved it. She came to the door 
with one of her Mother Hubbards and suggested that 
the drummer put it on. He got into the Mother Hubbard, 
went to the stable, hitched up his team and climbed into 
his buggy. Here he took the garment off and handed it 
back to the kindly old lady, who was full of sympathy 
for him. The buggy concealed his lower extremities, 
and he wrapped his linen duster around them to keep 
them warm. Mr. Hansard drove quickly to the nearest 
store, about four miles away, expecting to buy a pair of 
trousers there, for all the country stores keep ready¬ 
made clothing. When he got there he found numerous 
ladies who had congregated to see the opening of some 
new goods. He could not leave his buggy, but he yelled 
to the proprietor to come out, and to him he made 
known his predicament. The merchant brought to him 
five or six pairs of trousers. He drove into a neighboring 
hollow, tried them on, found a pair to fit him, and thus 
his tribulations were ended.— Tidiftg. 


THE DRUMMER’S TRICK. 

“ There,” said the drummer, “ now perhaps, 

Some one would like me to move my traps ; 

But the seat’s not large, so I’ll keep it all.” 

Then he spread himself out for an afternoon sprawl. 
With his overcoat, grip, and sample case, 

He had managed to fill the unoccupied space, 

But had hardly got settled down for a nap 
When he felt on his shoulder a gentle tap. 



With Gripsack. 


265 


And when he opened his sleepy eyes 
He beheld a farmer of giant size. 

“My friend,” quoth the farmer, “if not mistaken, 
The half of this seat by no one is taken ?” 

Now the drummer knew he couldn’t refuse, 

For the farmer could make him move if he choose, 
So he slowly moved his sample case, 

And made room for the other with very bad grace. 

“ Nice day,” said the farmer, taking most of the seat, 
And using the drummer’s valise for his feet. 

But the drummer was mad at the country gawk, 

And swore to himself that he wouldn’t talk. 

But the farmer commenced to talk of his crops, 

Of his wheat and his hay and his fine growing hops ; 

He said that never since he was born 

Had there been such a wonderful yield of corn. 

Exhausting the crops he talked politics, 

And the farmer right here got in some good licks ; 
But soon he switched back again on to his farm, 

And the drummer began to show signs of alarm. 
Then he said to himself, “ This will never do ; 

My vegetable friend, I’ll get even with you.” 

The farmer just then said, “What do you sell?” 

But the other replied that he dared not tell. 

“My business is one that is coupled with danger, 
And hardly would do to tell to a stranger; 

But if you’ll promise me never to tell, 

I’ll inform you, my friend, what I’ve got to sell.” 
Then low in the farmer’s ear he hissed : 

“I am what they call a Nihilist, 

And even now am on my way 
To blow up a town in Canada, 


266 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


In this very case, just here to my right, 

There’s fifty-six pounds of dynamite. 

It’s perfectly safe, though, in this car, 

Unless we should have a sudden jar.” 

But the farmer’s face wore a ghastly smile, 

As he cautiously worked his way out in the aisle. 
Then he grappled his old green carpet-sack, 

Rushed out of the car, and never came back. 

Then the drummer smiled at his trick so neat, 

And curled himself up in that vacant seat. 

Linwood. 


TRAVELING MEN INTERESTED IN THIS. 

A case of interest to traveling men and mercantile 
houses is the appeal of James H. Walker & Co. from the 
Circuit Court judgment in favor of William J. Grant, a 
traveling salesman for the firm. He had a contract to 
work fora year on salary and expenses. Mr. Walker 
warned him that his expenses were too high, and on the 
next trip must be kept down to $5 a day, by traveling 
slower. They were not so kept down, and the firm 
would not pay the excess over $5 a day. Grant sued 
and recovered ; the dry-goods firm appealed. Judge 
Moran holds the judgment was correct. A con¬ 
tract existed for salary and expenses. The firm had no 
power to change or limit the contract while it was in 
force. Judgment affirmed .—Chicago Times, 



With Gripsack . 


267 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Extract from speech of HON. P. W. MELDRIM, to 
the drummers, at Savannah, Ga.: 

“This bright, balmy, beautiful day we welcome you to 
Savannah. The Forest City, robed in emerald green, 
opens wide her arms to receive you, and bids you thrice 
welcome to her heart and home. The sunshine is 
brighter for your coming, the breezes, like lovers’ whis¬ 
pers, grow gentler in your presence ; the flowers, coy 
maidens, blush with pleasure at the sound of your foot¬ 
steps, and the shady streets and quiet parks bid you to 
rest here with us.” 

The speaker concluded in the following vein in deal¬ 
ing with the most interesting character— the “ drum¬ 
mer.” He said, amid laughter and applause : 

“He is unique, picturesque, useful and ornamental— 
a necessity and a luxury. He is neither young nor old, 
but his age, like that of a society belle, is an unknown 
quantity. He is as strong to-day as when I first went 
in the wire grass. He can bear fatigue, and does bear it 
He can bear everything except his own expenses^ 
His personal appearance is attractive, and to none more 
so than to himself. He dresses well, usually in the 
latest style, which at present consists of a linen duster, 
a beaver hat, grip-sack, and nothing more. His man¬ 
ners are good, except he talks a little loud, but this 
comes from the fact that some of his customers are hard 
of hearing. He is amiable, good-natured, full of energy, 
with indomitable perseverance, and courage that never 
fails him, an audacity that is unparalleled, and a judg. 
ment that is unerring. With a fair education, frequently 
with the highest cultivation, he is particularly well 


268 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


versed in current literature, and recent events ; he knows 
men and affairs of men ; he knows everything or thinks 
he does. He is at times a lawyer and a doctor, a 
preacher and a Sunday-school teacher, a politician and 
a farmer. In litigation he always wins ; for he is his 
own adviser ; he is the adviser of the J. P., he sleeps 
with the jury and he pays his lawyer. He is loyal to 
his friends, and those who know him best trust him 
most. Beneath the laugh he often hides a tear, and 
behind a gay song an earnest prayer. Many broken¬ 
hearted fathers and sorrow-stricken mothers have prayed 
God to bless him for bringing home to them their way¬ 
ward boy. He is full of wit and humor, pathos and 
anecdote. He is charitable, generous and liberal. He 
is social, fond of pleasant company, takes a drink when 
he feels like it, and generally he feels like it. He is 
loyal not only to friend, but to his honor and to his city. 
Like a sailor he has a fair one in every port. She must 
be pretty or rich—he prefers both, but will take either. 
In devotion to that sex he is at times a Don Juan, and 
again a Don Quixote. But his sterling traits of charac¬ 
ter make him at last the princely merchant, the prosper¬ 
ous manufacturer, the wealthy banker, the man who 
builds cities and sometimes commonwealths. 


A Maine drummer says life would be a much sweeter 
thing for the fraternity in the early days of fall, “when 
the frost is on the punkin’ and the fodder’s in the 
shock,” if country hotel keepers wouldn’t delay putting 
up the stove in the dining-room so long. Two cups of 
coffee and eleven sneezes too often constitute the break¬ 
fast of the commercial traveler, 



With Gripsack . 


269 


“ SOUP.” 

He was a meek-looking old gentleman from the coun¬ 
try, and as he took his seat at the dining-room table, the 
drummers looked at him over their soup-spoons. They 
noted his weather-beaten face, his wet hair carefully 
parted and brushed around over his ears, and his air of 
diffidence as he nervously fingered his fork ; and when 
the waiter girl stood demurely at his side and winked at 
the boot and shoe man, they were all attention. 

“ Soup ?” she asked. 

The old man seemed a bit surprised at the brevity of 
the bill of fare, and fidgeted about as though waiting for 
her to say something more. 

“Would you like some soup?” said the girl with a 
side-glance at the coffee and spice man. 

“ I ain’t particular about soup as I know of,” answered • 
the old man. 

“Boil mutt’n capersauce, roas’ beef, r’s’ lamb, lamb, 
r’s’ veal, fricasee chicken, cole ham -tongue, chick’n- 
salad, fritters, boil’n ’n’ baked p’tatrs,” said the girl with 
lightning-like rapidity. 

The old man looked kind of helpless, and the boys 
felt a little sorry for him as lie kept his eyes fastened on 
the fork, which he shoved from side to side with his 
fingers. 

“ I guess I’ll take—I guess you’ll have to say that 
again,” he said, looking up, and the girl rattled the 
whole thing off in exactly the time as before. 

The old man looked around the table, and caught 
sight of a drummer winking at the girl ; then he jerked 
his head around, and then, looking her straight in the 
face, he said : 

“You may gimme s’m bile cornbeef ’11’ cabbage, roas’ 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


2 70 

beef, veal ’n’ mutt’n, cole chick’n 'n’ turkey an' tongue 
’n’ s’m ham an’ eggs ’n’ codfish-cakes r n’ sassage ’n’ 
beefsteak ’n’a piece o’ punkin pie V cup o’ coffee, sis ; 
’n’ now see ef yer kin make yer little legs fly’s as fast as 
ye kin yer tongue, for I wanter git home ; there’s a 
shower cornin’ up.” 

The girl hesitated, turned red, and then made a break 
for the kitchen, while the drummers laughed and the 
old man gazed out of the window at the gathering 
clouds.— Puck. 


- » - 

THE TRAVELING MAN’S WIFE. 

The public is often burdened with long stories of the 
trials, tribulations or manipulations of the traveling 
man, but no man has, to my knowledge, ever sought to 
lift the veil of obscurity and peep at the happiness, 
gloom or grossness of the traveling man’s wife. 

It may be that the conspicuousness of her husband 
has caused her life to look as “ moonlight unto sunlight ; 
as water unto wine.” We look with sympathy on the 
man who leaves family, friendship and love, and loaded 
down with grips, goes out to inflict himself on the 
hardened public. We admire him who can meet frowns 
with smiles, curses with jolly laughter, and wisdom with 
wit. Who imagines bugs are angels, and cold beds are 
“downy cots.” We deplore the condition of him who 
sits waiting for a draft from “the house,” without 
money even for a cigar or a beer. We feel for him who 
is called from a warm bed out into the snow, to catch 
the 3 a. m. train, only to find the train three hours late. 
Perhaps all of these are brought to touch our sympa¬ 
thies by the force of the English he uses on such 




271 


With Gripsack. 

occasions ; and we say, “ poor traveling man !” or 
“jolly traveling man,” or ‘ wicked traveling man!’ as 
the case may be ; but how many think of his wife at 
home, patiently and lonesomely toiling, not only with 
family cares, but trying to make excuses for a neglected 
love ; anxiously waiting, with eager eyes and sad 
heart, for a letter that too often never comes ; reading 
the telegraphic columns with a breathless fear that some 
accident might have taken with it the life of her “absent 
loved one ?” 

Such are a few of the trials of a traveling man’s wife. 

The writer recently visited the home of the mother 
with six children. She was a patient, kind and Christian 
woman, and by nature of a cheerful disposition. Here 
were six children, from four to sixteen years of age, who 
had been taught to love and honor their father, but not 
one of them knew him so well as they did their neigh¬ 
bors. He is a “ traveling man,” and his visits to his 
children are marked by them with the fascinating curi¬ 
osity of some rich uncle from California. 

Kind to his wife? Yes. Liberal gifts to his children 
and lavish with his money ; but only home two days 
out of the month, which is not the part of a husband, 
nor the part of a father. Is it any wonder that this 
poor wife, who gave her life to this man for the promise 
that he would cherish her every day, said to me, “ Is 
life worth the race ?” But the wife who has these family 
cares to occupy her mind is infinitely more happy than 
the young woman who has left gay society to become 
the bride of a traveling man. He takes her to some 
hotel or boarding house, and leaves her there to pine 
while he makes life interesting by a “ circuit of the 
road." She casts wistful eyes after him, and is soon 
counting the hours until his return—which is only to 


272 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 

be followed by another parting. The “ dear hubby," 
as she calls him, is busy with a customer or a game of 
billiards, and carelessly writes from on the road : 

“ Dear Wife —O. K. The trunk has come. Tell 
William I’ll telegraph. He might have managed that 
thing himself if he hadn’t been such a calf. I’m here 
for a week at the Arlington. Enough to eat of the 
kind. 

“ Look under the bureau some time, dear, for that 
stud I couldn’t find. I’ve got an earache—confound the 
draught on the train. You can ask old Ray to cash 
your checks for you. Don’t forget to send my flannels.” 

She reads these lines with a mournful eye, yet she 
takes up her pen and writes him a long and affection¬ 
ate letter, telling him even about his mother-in-law, but 

“ She shakes her head as she traces his name, 

And seals his letter with sighs, 

It is hard for a woman to understand 
How soon man’s sentiment dies.” 

But the traveling man’s wife, like the traveling 
man himself, is of many different types. So we might 
mention the one who, while the husband is on the road, 
and she is supposed to be at home, is instead eating ice¬ 
cream or enjoying the theatre with the sw T ell young 
man who wears the big shirt studs and peaked shoes. 
Or, while Mr. Husband is trying to sell a bill of goods 
to a customer, Mrs. Wife is at home having a waltz with 
the music teacher ; the parlors are thrown open ; the 
gas lit ; three grass widows are there ; Mr. Highflyer is 
there with his violin ; Charley Splurge has his banjo, 


With Gripsack. 273 

and a dozen other sports with their flutes and guitars 
contribute to the gayety. 

Dancing and singing are in order ; the sideboard is 
covered with wine. The wife, in a hurry to dance, writes 
to her husband as follows : 

“ Dear Hubby —How lonesome I feel in your absence. 
Time passes so slowly, and I wait in agony of suspense 
the hour that you will return and your loving face lighten 
the dull monotony of my work. 

“Family cares keep me so busy that I haven’t time to 
write much, but I think of you every moment. I am 
living very economically, as I know your income will 
not admit frivolous expense. But I will have to say 
good-bye, or I will be too late for prayer meeting. 

Your Devoted Wife.” 

We will not speak of scene II, and the consternation 
when the husband in such a case comes in ahead of date. 
But the wife afterward muses : 

“ Once too often the chances I took, 

Which caused this grief and sorrow, 

But why for danger should I look ? 

His letter read, ‘ Can’t be home till to-morrow.' " 

However, with the exception of an occasional freak, 
we must saj 7- that the traveling man’s wife is a brave, 
independent, self-sacrificing woman, whose lonely, but 
patient, life entitles her to fulsome praise and commen¬ 
dation.— Dale , in De Moines Enterprise . 


274 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


DER DRUMMER. 

Who puts up at der pest hotel 
Uud dakes his oysters on der schell, 

Und mit the frauleins cuts a schwell ? 

Der Drummer. 

Who vash it gomes indo mine schtore, 
Drows down his pundles on der vloor, 

Und nefer schtops to shot der door ? 

Der Drummer. 

Who dakes me py der handt und say ; 

“ Hans Pfeiffer, how you vas to-day ?” 

Und goes for peesness rightd avay ? 

Der Drummer. 

Who shpreads his zamples in a trice, 

Und dells me “ look, und see how nice ?” 
Und says I gets “ der bottom price ?” 

Der Drummer. 

Who says der tings vas eggstra vine— 

“ Vrom Sharmany, ubon der Rhine—” 

Und sheats me den times oudt of nine ? 

Der Drummer. 

Who dells how sheap der goots vas bought 
Mooch less as vat I gould imbort, 

But lets dem go, as he was “ short ?” 

Der Drummer. 

Who varrants all der goots to suit 
Der gustomers ubon his route, 

And ven dey gomes dey vas no good ? 

Der Drummer. 


With Gripsack. 


275 


Who gomes arount ven I been oudt, 

Drinks oup mine bier, und eats mine kraut, 
Und kiss Katrina in der mout ? 

Der Drummer. 

Who, ven he gomes again dis vay, 

Vill hear vot Pfeiffer has to say, 

Und mit a plack eye goes avay ? 

Deur Drummer. 


A “ POINTER ” FOR THE DRUMMER. 

No one but a Boston man can keep up with a Boston 
drummer. For a New York man or railroad to try to 
get ahead of him is folly. A baggage man at Geneva, 
N. Y., vainly attempted it a few days ago. The drum¬ 
mer wanted to leave his grip at the baggage room while 
he went down town to make a sale. “ Can’t leave it,” 
said the baggage-master. “Against orders to do so.” 
Mr. Drummer asked what the baggage-room was for, 
and the reply was, “ To check baggage.” “ All right,” 
said the drummer, “check my grip to Auburn.” “Got 
a ticket?” “ Yes, sir.” The grip was checked. The 
next train left in two hours. Meanwhile the drummer 
went down town, got through his business, came back 
to the station, presented the check for his valise, got it 
and took the next train for another city to make another 
sale.— N. E. Grocer , 



276 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


THAT RATTLING PRETTY GIRL. 

Conductor Rodman, who runs on the Villisca branch 
of the Burlington, has a very pretty wife, and both Mr. 
and Mrs. Rodman had an opportunity of enjoying the 
discomforture of a traveling man on the down train the 
other morning. The drummer knows Mr. Rodman 
rather well, as his business takes him to Villisca fre¬ 
quently. Last Monday Mr. Rodman took his wife on 
his trip, and they came back to St. Joseph the next day. 
On this morning, as Mr. Rodman came through the car 
collecting tickets, the drummer pulled at his arm and 
whispered: “Say, Rodman, do you see that rattling 
pretty girl back there ?” 

“Yes,” responded the conductor, glancing in the 
direction indicated. 

“ Well, do you know her ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Where does she come from ?” 

“ St. Joseph, I believe.” 

“ Say, old man, do you know her well enough to give 
me a ‘knock down’ to her, for she’s a beauty, and no 
mistake.” 

“ Oh, yes. I guess I can fix it for you. Come along.” 

In a moment more the drummer was standing in 
front of the “ rattling pretty girl ” and had a winning 
smile prepared, when—“ Mr. Blank, allow me to pre¬ 
sent to you my wife.” 

The drummer murmured something about his pleas¬ 
ure, but went up into the baggage car soon after, 
where he managed to say to Mr. Rodman, “ I didn’t 
say anything out of the way, did I, old man ?”— St, Joseph 

News . 


With Gripsack . 


277 


HE HAD TRIED IT. 

Blossom (to drummer sitting by open window.)— 
Excuse me, sir, but that open window is very annoying. 

Drummer (pleasantly)—I am sorry, but I am afraid 
you’ll have to grin and bear it. 

Blossom—I wish you would close it, sir. 

Drummer—Would like to accommodate you, but I 
can’t. 

Blossom—Do you refuse to close that window, sir? 

Drummer—I certainly do. 

Blossom—If you don’t close it, I will. 

Drummer—I’ll bet you won’t. 

Blossom—If I go over there I will. 

Drummer—I’ll give odds you won’t. 

Blossom—I’ll ask you once more, sir, will you close 
that window ? 

Drummer—No, sir, I will not. 

Blossom (getting on his feet)—Then I will, sir. 

Drumme-—I would like to see you do it. 

Blossom (placing his hands on the objectionable win¬ 
dow)—I’ll show you whether I will or not, sir. 

Drummer (as Blossom tugs at window)—Why don’t 
you close it ? 

Blossom (getting red in the face)—It appears to be 
stuck. 

Drummer—Of course it is. I tried to close it before 
you came in. 


$ 


278 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


ELEMENTS OF HASH. 

At a certain house where a good many merchant trav¬ 
elers stop, the cooking is done in summer in the back 
yard. One day in July two or three of them sat down 
to the table on which sat a capacious dish of hash. 

“ Ugh,” said one of them at the table, “ I never like to 
eat that stuff.” 

“ Why don’t you,” asked the man next to him. “ It’s 
good.” 

“I don't like it all the same. You never know what 
it is made out of.” 

“ I do, every time at this house.” 

“Well, you don’t.” 

“Well, I do, too. It’s made out of doors, for I saw 
the old lady making it.” 

The other man asked a blessing, and the hash was 
eaten .—Merchant Traveler. 


A TRAVELING SALESMAN’S PLAN. 

I know of one dry goods man who has an extensive 
territory, who subscribes for more newspapers than are 
on the exchange list of a great many metropolitan jour¬ 
nals. He reads them carefully, painfully, in fact, and 
remembers what he reads, and when he reaches the town 
of say Dead Eye, Texas, or Prairie Dog, Neb., he can 
talk with merchants on local affairs like a native. It 
pays him for it tickles them, 



With Gripsack . 


279 


A TRUTHFUL “CRACKER.” 

“ Will this road take me to Atlanta ?” asked a commer¬ 
cial traveler of a “ cracker.” “ No, sir'ee,” replied the 
countryman, “ nary a time.” “That’s strange,” mused 
the first speaker. “ A man told me a few hours ago that 
it would.” “ He lied, stranger. I’ve been hyar twenty 
y’ars and I liain’t seed it tuck nobody anywhar yit, and 
I don’t s’pose she ever will long as folks kin ride and 
walk.” “Well, if I follow the road I’ll get there, won’t 
I?” smilingly asked the traveler. “Not much, fer ye 
kaint foller it, kase she don’t move, an’ ye kaint folier 
nothin’ what don’t move, an’ ye kaint foller nothing what 
don’t move ’long in front of ye.” “ But if I travel this 
route I’ll soon reach the city, I reckon?” “Then ye 
struck it, mister ; jes’ keep a movin’ the way ye’re goin’ 
an' ye’ll git thar after awhile, Mornin to ye .”—Atlanta 
Constitution . 


TEX-AR-KANIA SANDWICH. 

A drummer poor from Louisville 
Lay dying, bathed in tears. 

There was a lack of toothsome pretzels, 
A dearth of foaming beers. 

A doctor stood beside him 
As his life tide ebbed away, 

Who held his pulse, and bent his head 
To hear what he might say. 



28 o 


Ger Rail and Cross-Ties 


‘‘Tell my mother,” gasped the drummer. 

“ I had hoped to bring her home 
From the boundless Texas prairies, 

Where wild cows and cowboys roam, 
Many a tale of strange adventure, 

That I gleaned whilst making sales, 
Thin as poor Dr. Tanner, 

Wonderful as Mulhattan’s tales ; 

“And I would have kept my promise, 

But my teeth were led astray 
By a pampered, voluptuous sandwich 
Built at Tex-ar-kania. 

Tell my father I had hoped 
To make happy his old days 
With the savings from ‘ expense accounts* 
(And other drummers' ways), 

“ By starting him in business 

In the ‘grain and green meat’ line, 

In a red brick store on Main street 
With a blue and golden sign, 

And I would have succeeded, 

But alas ! on a fateful day 
I tackled a hard boiled sandwich 
Coined at Tex-ar-kania. 

“ Still there is another, doctor,” 

Here the drummer shed a tear : 

“ Though her father is in heaven 
She’s worth ten thousand clear. 

Take her back this cluster diamond, 

Tell her she can never more 
Make me jealous of the tourist 
Traveling for the notion store. 


With Gripsack, 


281 


For I had hoped to claim her boodle, 

And my bride the self-same day, 

But was slaughtered by a sandwich— 
Foaled at Tex-ar-kan-i-a. 

Tell my house,” gasped the drummer, 

And his face wore a heavenly smile, 

My impressions on the trade were elegant— 
And I’d ‘got there ’ after awhile. 

My expense account was a daisy, 

Many a town I’ve painted red, 

But whenever I ‘ caught a sucker,' 

You bet I ‘ bumped his head.’ ” 

Deeper fell the standing shadows, 

Sullen sank the sun to west, 

Quicker came the troubled breathing 
From beneath that liar’s vest. 

Then the doctor murmured softly : 

“ I was sent here all too late, 

For the pilgrim's name is Dennis 
Ere the clock will cherup eight.” 

Then he quickly left the chamber 
Where a gloating sandwich lay 
Inside of a perished drummer, 

Slain at Tex-ar-kania. 


—Denver Road. 


282 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


POETIC PROSE FOR PATIENT PEOPLE. 

A salesman for a Western house lay dying in his room. 
’Twas in a town whose people say is always on a boom. 
But the boom was over for this man. He’s on his final 
trip ; he needs no trunks or baggage ; he leaves behind 
his grip. There was lack of tender nursing and his only 
friend, a man who will always help the weak ones and 
do all the good he can. The dying drummer faltered as 
he took his partner’s fist and murmured, “John, I’ve got 
to go, but I never will be missed. But before I quit the 
gang for the trip I’ll make above, I want to send a mes¬ 
sage to those we cannot love.” A tear stood in his bright 
blue eye, which was getting dimmer fast, and his friend 
bent over to listen to the last. “ Tell the landlord at 
the Jay House, indirectly it’s his fault, and it’s largely 
due his beastly grub, I fill the family vault. If he’d let 
up on races and look after beds and food, the public 
would suffer less and he’d do lots more good ; and gently 
hint the clerk he’d be doing nothing rash if he’d take 
half the interest in his guests that he does of the cash. 
Tell the conductor also that perhaps we’ll meet again 
on a railroad higher up when he doesn’t own the train ; 
and the Pullman car conductors, yes, his thieving pcrter, 
too, that his passenger will need a little cash when he 
gets his journey through ; but be sure to watch the win¬ 
dow fiend and carefully him tell, he’d better put that 
window down or he’ll come to—well, of all the asses on 
the road the ill and whining pup, you can always know 
him by the way he keeps his window up, no matter if it’s 
January, or on the B. & O., as soon as this thing’s in his 
seat, up the window’s sure to go. Tell him people want 
their rights, and if he’s going far he’d find more congen- 


With Gripsack. 


283 


ial company if he'd strike a cattle car.” His cheek was 
growing paler, his life’s sands running past, and he whis¬ 
pered, “ Guess I’ll quit, for it seems my die is cast, but 
if you’ll gently raise my head and let me better see, I 
will tell you of a man you can better spare than me. 
For instance, there’s old Smithers, buyer for Jones & Rice, 
he never did a kind thing, and his heart’s as cold as ice. 
If every man was mean as he —by this I mean the buyer 
—I’d gladly quit this mundane sphere, and join the angel 
choir. Tell him every drummer hates him and can tell 
the reason why, and to paste inside his hat that we’ll have 
our innings by and by, and please request the stranger 
when he’s away from home and does some things disrep¬ 
utable and doesn’t want it known, to not claim he’s a 
traveling man, and thus malign the whole when register¬ 
ing at the station-house or riding in the patrol. Too 
long our class has stood this thing, and always got the 
name, of being gay and giddy when we’re not the least 
to blame. 

Now I’ve only this request to make and I’ll quit this 
world of woe, that you’ll tell the boys I took this trip 
because I’d got to go. Put my body in the baggage car 
and mark it through all right, for I’m tired of changing 
cars in the middle of the night.” 


284 


O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


HE GOT THAR. 

Going down the great Jackson route from Grenada, 
Miss., says a commercial traveler, a regular old home- 
spun native entered a sleeping car and paid for a berth. 
He had never been inside of a car of the kind, and 
everything astonished him. When the porter came to 
make up the bed, I saw that the native was greatly per¬ 
plexed, but as he made no direct appeal, it wasn’t my 
duty to post him. He was the first one to make prepar¬ 
ations for bed. He glanced anxiously around, pulled 
off one boot, and then took a rest for five minutes. 
When the other boot came off he had solved the problem. 
Pushing his boots under the berth he started for the 
rear platform, and nothing was heard from him for about 
ten minutes. Then he put his head into the door and 
called out: 

“ All you uns in thar, look out, for I’m coming.” 

And come he did. He had disrobed while standing 
on the platform, made a bundle of coat, vest and pants, 
and as he shot into bed after a run up the aisle he gurgled 
out: “Old Mississip may be a little slow, but she alius 
gits thar just the same.” 


THE SAFEST PART. 

A party of commercial travelers in a passenger coach 
were talking over their traveling experience, and the 
danger of accidents, and finally the question arose as to 
the safest part of the car. Failing to settle the question 
among themselves they called up the conductor and one of 
them said to him: “ Conductor, we have been discussing 
the matter of the safest part of the car, and want to know 



IVith Gripsack. 


285 

your opinion.” “Want to know the safest part, eh?” 
replied the conductor. “Yes, that’s it.” “Well,” 
continued the conductor, borrowing a chew of tobacco 
and looking disappointed because lie didn’t get a cigar, 
“I’ve been on the road for fifteen years, and I have been 
turned over embankments, busted up in tunnels, dumped 
off bridges, telescoped in collisions, blown off the track 
by cyclones, run into open switches and had other 
pleasant incidental divertisements of kind nature, and I 
should say, gentlemen, the safest part of the car was that 
part which happened to be in the shop for repairs at the 
time of the accident.” 


THE HOUSE TO BLAME. 

Much has been said and written about the ability of 
the salesman to properly represent his employer and 
build up a trade to make it valuable to both of them. 
The salesman in many instances is blamed if a certain 
trade is worked disastrously, but if it results in a good 
and prosperous business being built up, the house wants 
the large part of the credit for “good goods,” low 
prices, etc., thinking any man of ordinary ability, backed 
by their “ modus operandi ” could have done as much, 
and perhaps even go so far as to regret having paid the 
salesman a large salary, when a cheaper man might have 
accomplished the same results. The forces spoken of, 
i. e. house and salesman, must work in perfect harmony 
and operate with the same end in view as to prompt¬ 
ness, carefulness and honor, to insure success, and with¬ 
out which hearty co-operation the result must be dis¬ 
astrous. Many a good, competent, careful salesman 



286 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


has had his reputation blasted by a careless office force 
or bad help in getting out the goods which were not up 
to the sample, owing to mistakes in shipping the proper 
articles, or being out of the ones designated on the 
order, something “just as good” has been substituted, 
but which is not “just as good ” to the purchaser, and 
the salesman, being the only one ever seen, must stand 
the abuse of the house. An incident came under our 
observation recently, which serves to illustrate. A retail 
grocer bought of a prominent and elegant house, a bill 
of goods at thirty days net. The goods were satisfac¬ 
tory, but the house made a draft at ten days, which, to 
avoid trouble and complications, the retailer paid. The 
salesman was taxed with the matter on his next visit, 
and convinced the buyer it was an error, and being anx¬ 
ious to sell a certain article, the retailer said that as he 
had enough to do him for thirty days he could send it 
at the end of that time on thirty days’ time, or at once, 
and give him sixty days. Fearing some rival salesman 
would load the retailer up and that possession was ten 
points in law, he sent the goods at once, billed at sixty 
days net. At the end of thirty days, and just when the 
goods should have been shipped, the house made a draft 
for the amount of the invoice. The buyer was rightly 
incensed at what he called an unfair transaction, and 
when the salesman called was confronted by a man with 
his war paint on, and barely civil to the innocent victim 
of the error. The result was that the retailer said, “We 
will not buy another dollar of your house, but get 
goods where we have a definite understanding as to 
terms, etc.” Trade lost, customer gone elsewhere, and 
no fault of any one but the house.— Ohio State Journal. 


With Gripsack . 


287 


STRICTLY BUSINESS. 

“A commercial traveler, so accepted by the trade and 
by his employers,” says the San Francisco Grocer and 
Country Merchant , “ adheres strictly to business. He 
can not afford to compromise his dignity or position by 
actions uubecoming a gentleman. No man living has 
ever secured the good will of the business community, 
or retained his standing with his house, who has devi¬ 
ated from the principles of business. Thousands of 
young men have gone on the road with good prospects, 
who made such ignoble failures that the houses by 
which they were employed would not give them posi¬ 
tions as second porters on their return from their first 
trip. In a certain sense, this is true, but where such 
things happen, it is quite as much the fault of the house 
as of the man employed. Firms that seek to get a $5,000 
man for $900 are often the victims of their own avarice. 
Where good salaries are paid there are generally good 
men found for the positions. The man is generally 
respective of his house. A discriminating merchant 
generally gauges the size and responsibility of the house 
by the calibre of the salesman who visits them, and are 
very rarely wrong in their estimate. The successful 
commercial man belongs to a peculiar type. He falls 
naturally into the business as the successful artist, poet 
or novelist falls into painting or writing. He has all 
the attributes of the merchant and one more—the gift 
of intuition. The man who cannot feel what a customer 
is going to say before he has spoken may as well resign 
the road and seek some more congenial field. He will 
never succeed as a commercial traveler. 


288 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


SOME SUGGESTIONS FOR SALESMEN. 

Salesmen who are good listeners are usually good 
observers, and consequently they grow intelligent. If a 
point can be made clear at all, it is all the clearer by 
brevity, and sensible people prefer evidence to eloquence. 

It is certainly true that salesmen of ready and fluent 
speech, good talkers, are often surpassed by those that 
say little. 

A conceited, pretentious and affected manner on the 
part of a salesman disgusts and repels, while one who is 
simple and natural in his manners attracts and makes 
friends. 

The simplest and most natural manners are the easiest 
and best for a salesman, but they are also the most 
difficult to acquire, for simplicity is the highest attain¬ 
ment of art. 


THE FEMALE TOURIST. 

Have you seen the latest comer 
In the field ? 

When you gaze upon her, 

Know your fate is sealed ; 

It’s no sort of use to throw yourself before her 
And implore her 
In your weakness 
And your meekness 
Not to mutter you are but a man, 

And she a female drummer. 



With Gripsack . 

She will talk you deaf 
And dumber 
Than a clam. 

Tho’ you know the goods she’s selling 
Are a sham 

You give in—there’s no repelling 
Her invasion 
English, Asian, 

White or yellow 
Where’s the fellow 
That is human 
Born of woman 

Can resist the female drummer? 

Be it winter, be it summer 
She will drum ; 

On her tour of devastation 
She will come ; 

And your bump of approbation 
Can but dwindle, 

And the swindle 
You submit to ; 

Wife will twit, too 
Till you wonder 
Why in thunder 

Heaven e’er made the female drummer. 

—Boston 


289 


Globe. 


290 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


COL. THOMAS’ BALTIMORE SPEECH. 

Colonel John L. Thomas was then introduced. He 
said : “ When I heard the speeches that have been 

made, I thought I was in the wrong place. I looked you 
boys over this afternoon, to see what sort of fellows you 
were. When I saw all these flags, I thought it was a 
Republican National Convention. But when I sat for 
twenty minutes, and heard everybody talking at once I 
concluded I was in a Democratic meeting. It reminded 
me of the Democratic Convention that nominated His 
Honor the Mayor a short time ago. When I saw the 
letters “ T. P. A.,” I said ‘ My lord, I’m in a Temperance 
Convention.’ I looked for Bill Daniel, and thought I 
saw him in a box. I thought I was not in the right place, 
and I left. Your committee told me I was to speak to a 
convention of Drummers, and yet I haven’t heard the 
word ‘Drummer’ to-night. I don’t know why this is. 
When the Mayor spoke I thought from his way of going 
to the bottom of things, that he would tell us all about 
the first ‘Drummer.’ He went back and showed that 
the first ‘Drummer’ was at the Battle of Waterloo. I 
don’t wonder that he didn’t go any further back. I don’t 
know whether he reads the Bible or not. 

“ I found the first ‘ Drummer ’ was mentioned in Gene¬ 
sis. Joseph’s brethren sold him to those commercial 
travelers. They sold him to Potipharbut I never found 
out how much they got for him. I knew if I was pre¬ 
ceded by the Mayor and two or three commercial trav¬ 
elers, no room would be left for me. I knew they would 
gobble up everything that was ever written or con¬ 
ceived about commercial travelers. If there are any 
men who have music in their hearts, and poetry in their 


With Gripsack . 


291 


souls, I believe it is you fellows. I have traveled with 
you and slept with you, and never saw a better set of 
fellows in my life. They will put their heels a little high 
upon the seats sometimes, and sometimes they are like 
a German I know. He said “when I travel I always 
put a piece of Limburger cheese in my pocket, and get 
all the seats I want.” I made five speeches yesterday 
with a body of travelers, and the boys painted five dis¬ 
tinct towns red. Now I’ll go to my poetry. I’m no 
poet, but I am corresponding all the time with Tenny¬ 
son and the other big lights. You won’t like this poem 
at first, but wait awhile. He then read this poem, 
which was interrupted at the end of every stanza with 
applause. 


A POEM. 

Giving an idea of the “Drummer” from his little 
beginning to his present commanding position in the 
world of trade and commerce. 

When little boys go out to play, and beat their drums 
the live-long day, 

Who is it we wish far away ? 

The Drummer. 

And when these boys are bid to go, but don’t know 
whether to or no, 

Who is it gets away so slow ? 

The Drummer. 

And when these drums are beat at night, and dogs and 
cats slink back with fright, 

Who is it we would shoot at sight ? 

That Drummer. 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


292 

When horrid war lifts high its head, and brave battal¬ 
ions on are led, 

Who beats the time to soldiers’ tread ? 

The Drummer. 

And when the fight grows hot and fierce, and shot and 
shell whole columns pierce, 

Who is it makes himself so scarce ? 

The Drummer. 

And thus it is the drummer plays, his part in deadly 
fights and frays, 

But shows his grit in other ways, 

(Does) The Drummer. 

For on the battle-field of trade, where fame and fortune 
too are made, 

Who is it shows he’s not afraid ? 

The Drummer. 

And when he starts on his campaign, who spurns all 
tricks both dark and vain, 

And seldom rises to explain ? 

The Drummer. 

Who is it goes throughout the land, with grip-sack 
clutched in either hand, 

Instead of shot and firebrand ? 

The Drummer. 

And as he goes from place to place, with innocent and 
smiling face, 

Who seems the meekest of his race ? 

The Drummer. 


With Gripsack. 293 

And if perchance he comes across some chap that turns 
his gold to dross, 

Who counts bis profit more than loss? 

The Drummer. 

Who would the bunco men avoid ? Who have some 
bunco men destroyed ? 

When bunco men have them decoyed, 

The Drummer. 

Who knows the single rule of three, when figures will 
and won’t agree ; 

And when to be or not to be ? 

A Drummer. 

In fine, who is “ an Innocent Abroad ?” That wears a 
“ sham,” but is no fraud ? 

And honest men can well applaud, 

The drummer. 

When railroads won’t compound a fare, nor steamboats 
count four as a pair, 

Who is it jerks and pulls his hair ? 

The Drummer. 

When hotel clerks seem deaf and dumb, nor seem to 
care when he has come, 

Who is it then is swearing some ? 

The Drummer. 

Who boards the train at dead of night, and lifts his 
heels way out of sight, 

And snores with all his main and might ? 

The Drummer. 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


294 

And if a train stops at a station for passengers to get a . 
ration, 

Who proves the landlord’s next relation ? 

The Drummer. 

When early trains start somewhat late, and passengers 
are forced to wait ; 

Who soon is reconciled to fate, and seeks for something 
that is straight ? 

The Drummer. 

Who, when he feels a little sick, puts in his medicine a 
stick 

That sometimes makes his tongue feel thick ? 

The Drummer. 

And if perchance he finds a bed, and on his pillow rests 
his head, 

Who, “ Now I lay me ” never said ? 

The Drummer. 

And when the morning sun arises, who every rule of 
dress despises 

By putting on all sorts and sizes of what he has and 
advertises ? 

The Drummer. 

When men have stocks of goods on hand, and can’t tell 
why there’s no demand, 

Who makes the laws of trade expand ? 

The Drummer. 

And when the State demands a fee, which with the drum¬ 
mers don’t agree, 

Who says the country is not free ? 

The Drummer. 


With Gripsack . 295 

And when such laws stand unrepealed, who is it boldly 
takes the field, 

Nor ceases till the people yield ? 

The Drummer. 

If one should seek some desert place, nor hope to find 
one of his race 

Who would he meet there, face to face ? 

Some Drummer. 

If Greely finds the great North Pole, and then should 
dig to find a soul, 

Who would he find down in the hole ? 

Some Drummer. 

When Gabriel blows his final blast, and thinks the world 
is gone at last, 

Who will he find still holding fast ? 

The Drummer. 

And hence it is that we see the sight, that greets us here 
at Ford’s to-night; 

Of homage paid to men that fight, 

(We mean) The Drummer. 

We hail the Drummer because he drums, because he 
comes, and goes and comes. 

Because he is the best of chums— 

The Drummer. 

We love your free and easy ways, your festive nights and 
sunny days. 

And we are here to speak your praise— 

Ye Drummers. 


296 O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 

May all the laws that hamper trade, all unjust taxes that 
are laid, 

Nor vex or henceforth make afraid, 

The Drummer. 

May Congress in its power supreme, declare that trade's 
a boundless stream, 

And not a figment or a dream, 

Of Drummers. 

May the cheapest rates and cheapest fares, for grip-sacks, 
merchandise and wares, and hotel rooms not “ way 
up stairs,” 

Be the answer to the earnest prayers, 

Of the Drummers. 

And now my friends, let’s bid adieu ; you’ve drummed 
for us, we’ve drummed for you ; 

And trust you’ll always find us true, 

To Drummers. 

You’re welcome here in Baltimore, you’re welcome to 
our goodly store ; and did you number thousands 
more, 

’d freel ,,r open every door 

To Drummers. 

Our genial Mayor has veto powers ; he’s partly yours 
and partly ours, 

And I am told he never sours, 

On Drummers. 

The “ Big Sixteen ” have just adjourned, and all the 
butter they have churned, 

To Oleomargerine has turned, 

And Drummers. 


With Gripsack . 297 

So if you will have your way, when you are gone you 
can’t but say— 

That Baltimore is owned to-day 

By Drummers. 

This is a verbatim copy of an address and poem 
delivered by Colonel John L. Thomas, before “ The 
Drummers’ Convention,” held at Ford’s Opera House, 
the evening of Thursday, June 24th, 1886, the above 
copy being taken from the Baltimore American , of Friday, 
June 25th, 1886 


HE NETTED HIS VICTIM. 

He came into the office of a merchant on Jefferson 
Avenue, and with a cheery “ Good morning,” as if he 
were a familiar friend, pulled a chair up near the door, 
and sat down. The merchant eyed him for a minute, 
and quietly remarked : 

“ Well !” 

“ Yes, thank you,” he replied with a smile. “ I hope 
you are well also.” 

It almost jarred the merchant out of his chair. 

“I didn’t ask you whether you were well or not,” he 
said, getting hot, “ and it is none of your business how I 
am. What do you want ?” 

*• I want a million of dollars and a palace, and a yacht 
and a four-in-hand,” he rattled away. 

“Confound you,” angrily exclaimed the merchant. 
“What do you suppose I care what you want ?” 

“ I don’t really know,” he answered in the best humor 



298 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

imaginable, “ but I presume you did care, or you would 
not have asked me.” 

“ Come, come,” stuttered the merchant, “ this is past 
endurance ; you are a perfect stranger to me, and you 
come in here and take up my time and talk like an idiot. 
What did you come here for?” 

“For a few minutes only,” said the visitor serenely, 
and with the same placid demeanor. 

“ Oh ! did you,” and the merchant jumped clean out 
of his chair and started for him. “ Well, if you don’t get 
out in two minutes I’ll break your head for you.” 

“ Now, now you are talking business,” calmly responded 
the visitor. “Go right on, and break my head and my 
arm and my leg ; that will lay me up for at least twelve 
weeks, and I’ll get at least $50 a week from the finest 
accident company in the insurance world, of any, sir, 
the very finest and surest and most reliable and 
richest. I represent that company, sir. Don’t you 
want a policy with us? Dead sure snap on $50 a 
week, if you are injured by any accident ; and $10,000, 
spot cash, and no commission if you are killed. I 
carry two policies myself, and when I hear a man talk 
about using me as you threaten to I fairly beam with 
joy, and hope breaks out on me in great blotches. I 
have been—” 

“For heaven’s sake,” interrupted the victim. “Shut 
up ! How much is your policy for a year ? Give me 
one quick and get out before I commit suicide and stick 
your company for the full value.” 

Ten minutes later, the victim was in the net, and the 
captor had departed with his gall, for the next one. 
—Detroit Free Press. 


With Gripsack . 


299 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE DRUMMER’S MISTAKE. 

I met her in a Pullman car, 

In section number nine, 

Each eye shone like a morning star 
With radiance divine ; 

So when I placed my bags and traps 
In section number ten, 

She looked so tempting ’mid her wraps 
I sought her face again. 

She glanced at me with roguish pose, 

Yet innocent of guile, 

Then colored like a blushing rose 
And I tried to hide a smile ; 

The sweet confusion but enhanced 
Her dainty tint of pink, 

And quite by accident she chanced 
The nearest eye to wink. 

When she refused my proffered card 
With scorn and proud disdain, 

I tried my best and pleaded hard 
My error to explain. 

She listened to my mumblings crude, 
Then tossed her nose on high ; 

“ I think,” she said, “you’d wink if you’d 
A cinder in your eye.” 


300 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


WILL THEY? 

When the last order is entered upon the great book, 
Kept by the angels on high, 

And the last town is made, the last excess paid, 

And the freight caught on the fly. 

And the expense account shows the proper amount, 

In keeping with the cost of the trip, 

And St. Peter meets you as you get out of the bus, 

And silently snatches your grip, 

And you’re led thro’ the door, weary and sore, 

Tired out with life’s race all up hill. 

Will the angels who meet you come up to greet you, 
With the remark, We have just ordered a bill ? 

And these things are of interest to drummers, you know, 
And the inquiry respectfully made is : 

Will the boys feel at home in that beautiful land, 

Or must they double back to hades ? 
v —Ohio State Journal. 


DRUMMER’S STORIES. 

A jolly party of drummers was grouped about the 
lobby of the Palmer House in Chicago last week. They 
smoked imported cigars at the expense of their respec¬ 
tive firms and swapped stories about the big bills they 
had sold. 

“ Not long ago,” began a clothing drummer with a 
truthful eye and candid glance, “I went to Wichita to 
show my samples to a well-known house. It was agood 
concern, but prices had to be rock-bottom to tempt 
them. When I struck the town I found crape on the 



IVith Gripsack . 


301 


door-knob of the store, and a card announced that Mr. 
K., the senior member of the firm, was dead. You bet 
I was sorry, especially as I had come sixty miles to see 
Mr. K. I rang the bell to offer my condolence, and Mr. 
K., Jr., brother of the defunct, answered my summons. 
After expressing my regrets at the sad occurrence, I said : 

“ ‘ I suppose you’ll not feel like looking at my samples 
under the present circumstances.’ 

“ * Well, I don’t know ; have you anything real cheap ?” 

“ ‘ Rather. The biggest ever offered.” 

“ The bereaved brother wiped away a tear and seemed 
lost in thought. ‘ I need a few suits,’ he said, ‘ but I 
can’t go to the hotel. The funeral doesn’t come off before 
3 o’clock, If you will bring your trunks in here before 
noon I’ll look at your stuff.’ I brought my trunks into 
his place and began to display my merchandise. In one 
corner of the dingy store stood the coffin containing the 
calm and wax-like remains of the deceased. We spoke 
in whispers so as not to disturb the solemnity of the 
scene. Unfortunately my prices were not low enough 
to tempt Mr. K. in his present sad state of mind. 1 Too 
dear !’ was his invariable comment, no matter how close 
I shaved the figures. I was in despair, for I saw the 
coveted order slip through my fingers. I determined 
upon a stroke of diplomacy. 

“ ‘ Can you use any Middlesex flannel suits ?’ I asked. 

“ ‘ That depends ! How much?’ 

“ Now the current prices for these suits was $8.50. 
Here was my opportunity. 

“‘I am prepared to offer you the genuine flannels at 
$5 a suit,’ I replied. 

“The effect was magical. Instantly the corpse sat up 
in his coffin and stared at me with its glassy eyes, 


302 O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 

“ * I’ll take all you’ve got!’ cried the cadaver, and 
sank back to its sleep of death.” 


A MILD REJOINDER 

A death-like calm succeeded this sad story. Then a 
notion salesman took the floor. 

“ Some people are close, for a fact,” he began. 
“ Last year I called on a new concern in Omaha and by 
dint of unlimited treating to high-priced cigars and 
drinks I managed to sell the proprietor a bill of under¬ 
wear. There was barely 12 per cent, profit in it. The 
bill was promptly paid, but instead of the customary 7 
per cent., Mr. L. had deducted 10 per cent, discount. 
He wrote a short note, as follows : 

“ ‘Gents : Enclosed find my check for bill of the 18th, 
less 10 per cent. Hoping this is satisfactory, I am ditto, 
ditto, ditto, Yours, etc.’ 

“ Some strong invectives were used when this letter 
was opened by my firm, but it was a first bill and 
Omaha was a long way off, so we determined to say 
nothing. Last week I called on Mr. L. again and sold 
him another bill. ‘ Look here,’ I said, when we talked 
of dating, ‘last time you deducted 10 per cent. If you 
take off more than 7 per cent, in future, back goes your 
check !’ Mr. L. appeared satisfied. 

“ ‘ Now, tell me,’ I asked, ‘ what did you mean by 
writing ‘ ditto ’ at the end of your letter ?’ 

“‘I’ll tell you in confidence,’said Mr. L. ‘ I knew 
when your firm received my check they would do some 
fall swearing and would consign me to the infernal 



With Gripsack. 303 

regions ; so I just put in ditto, ditto, ditto, as a mild 
rejoinder. ’ ’* 


TALL LYING. 

“ There are tricks in all trades,” remarked the cloth¬ 
ing drummer. “ Last Saturday I spent in Indianapolis, 
and with an eye to future orders I made myself useful 
at the clothing store of one of my customers. An old 
Irish woman came in, leading a tall, overgrown lad of 
sixteen. 

“ ‘ I’d loike a shoot for me boy,' she said, ‘ something 
purty an’ not too dear.’ 

“ ‘Something for about $10 ?’ suggested the salesman. 

“ ‘ Whist now, do yez take me for a Wanderbilt ? Oi’li 
not spend more nor $5, an’ the lad a-growin’ ivery day.’ 

“‘Madam, I have just the thing. Last week we got 
in some reai Irish imported suits. 1 have one left, and 
if it fits I’ll let you have it for $5.’ 

“ The suit was produced, a plaid, pea-green satinette 
which had been in stock for well-nigh twelve years. With 
the exception of being too short in the arms and legs it 
was a beautiful fit. 

“‘Oi loike the color av that,’ said the lady after 
inspection, ‘but I’m afeard the moths’ll be after gittin’ 
into the stuff and eatin’ it for me.’ 

“ ‘ No danger of that, ma’am,’ answered the clerk. ‘ If 
any moths get into that suit they’ll starve to death, for 
there ain’t enough wool in that suit to keep an able- 
bodied moth alive. Besides, the green coloring is Paris 
green and is warranted to kill any moth that gets near 
it.’ 

“‘Then oi’ll take the suit,’ and she went on her way 
rejoicing.” 



O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


3°4 


KEEPING MOTHS. 

“Talking about moths,” said the hat drummer, 
“reminds me of the story they tell of Iky Solomon at 
Bowling Green. One day a colored gentleman entered 
his store in great excitement. 

“ ‘ Look a hyar, boss/ he cried, ‘ dis yere brown triangle 
suit I done bo’t ob yo’ las’ week ain’t no good nohow. 
It am chuck full ob moths!’ 

“‘You didn’t bought dat diagonal suit from me,’ 
replied Iky, after surveying the suit. ‘ I don’t keep my 
moths in my diagonal suits; I keep dem in my cardigan 
jackets. Mr. Sloane down de shtreet keeps his moths 
in diagonal suits. You must have bo’t dat suit at his 
shtore. Everybody knows his own bishness best.”* 


TO THE FACT. 

“ I should like to contribute my tale,” said the coffin 
drummer. “ I used to be an undertaker in Cincinnati. 
One day a German came in with crape around his hat 
and a woebegone expression upon his face. ‘ You vos 
der undertaker?’ he asked. I admitted the imputation. 
‘Mein bruder have yust died and I would like to send 
him to his home in New York. Vot vos der besht 
way to ship him ?’ 

“‘You’d better freeze the body and send it on ice/ 
I suggested. 

“ ‘ Vot you charge for freezin* my bruder ?’ 

“ ‘ Twelve dollars,’ I replied. 

“‘Twelve dollars? don’t that was a goot deal? 
Couldn’t you done it for ten ?’ 

“ I replied that twelve was the lowest price, 



With Gripsack . 


305 


“ * Well,’ replied the German, wiping away a tear. 1 1 
gif you $10 to freeze poor Fritz aber you just freeze him 
to the feet. Dey don’t need it, for dey has been frost 
bitten last winter anyhow.’ ”— Richmond ’ Va., Dispatch . 


HE FOUND A NIGHT-GOWN. 

A rather ludicrous incident occurred at a St. Paul 
hotel not long since. The chambermaid went into a 
transient’s room to put it in order, the occupant (a lady), 
having as she supposed, gone. She found a night-gown 
had been left, and rolled it up, intending to take it to 
the housekeeper, but, stopping to make up a traveling 
man’s room on the way, inadvertently left it at the foot 
of his bed. The lady, it transpired, had merely gone out 
for the day with her satchel, and returning at night 
made inquiry for her night-gown. The maid had for¬ 
gotten what she did with it, and a thorough search was 
unavailing. The following morning, however, when the 
maid again went into the traveling man’s room, she 
found the missing gown pinned to his wardrobe with a 
placard attached, inscribed: $10,000 Reward offered for 
the Recovery of the Lady Fitting this Garment .”—Hotel 
Gazette. 



3°6 


O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


THE CAR PORTER. 

If you travel as you’d oughter 
You will meet the colored porter, 

Who with smile upon his lip 
Will expect from you a tip. 

He is found on every sleeper, 

Full of learning, and it’s cheaper, 

If you’d like to learn it all, 

Just to tip a silver ball. 

If you try to shake this porter, 

And refuse a paltry quarter, 

When you need him you may call. 

But you’d better wait till fall. 

If you tip him, he’s a dandy 
With a pillow that is handy, 

And a bottle cool as ice, 

Holding something awful nice. 

You will find he is a rusher, 

Just the slickest kind of brusher 
And before you leave the car, 

Oh, “ He’ll be dar, He’ll be dar." 

John De Witt. 


With Gripsack, 


307 


HE KICKED THRICE. 

“ Yes, we meet with all sorts of people here,” 
answered the railroad conductor, as he sat down in the 
smoker after making his rounds. “ It is a great place 
in which to study human nature." 

“Aren’t there a good many kickers among travelers ?" 

“ Plenty of them. I could have a fight every hour in 
the day if I wanted to talk back. There is one in the 
third seat ahead now. He lives at R—, and he never 
comes or goes without trying to kick up a row." 

“ He seems quiet enough." 

“ But he only seems. I’m expecting every minute to 
hear his war-whoop. It is just an hour’s run to R—, and 
I’ll bet he makes three kicks in that time." 

“ I’ll go you for a box of cigars." 

“ Done, old fellow !" 

They were shaking hands on it when the man rose up 
and went to the water cooler. He took two or three 
sips of water and then walked back to the conductor 
and said : 

“When you get ready to clean the drugs and chemi¬ 
cals out of that cooler, please let me know. Perhaps I 
can buy half a ton of copperas at wholesale figures." 

“ That’s one," said the conductor, as the kicker took 
his seat. 

The train stopped and another round was made, and 
the official had scarcely taken his seat when the kicker 
came over and said : 

“ If there is a window in this coach which can be 
raised I wish you would label it for me." 

“That’s two," whispered the conductor, “and we’ve 
got sixteen miles to go yet." 


308 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


The kicker sat down to his newspaper, and was so 
quiet for a time that the drummer began to have hopes. 
Eight—ten—twelve miles rolled behind the train, and 
he seemed deeply interested in an article, when he sud¬ 
denly bobbed up and came over to the conductor. 

“ I’ll bet fifty to one there are fleas in this coach ! I’ve 
just been bitten by something mighty like one, and I’m 
going to send in a complaint to headquarters.” 

“ Are you satisfied ?” asked the conductor after the 
kicker had taken his seat. 

“ I’ve got to be. And that’s his usual practice, is it ?” 

“ Oh, he’s let me off light to-day.” 

“ Well, it’s worth a box of cigars to see human nature 
in that way,” mused the drummer as the train drew up 
at R—. 

The kicker and the drummer got off together, and the 
former softly inquired : 

“ Was it three kicks, Tom ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ And the bet ?” 

“ A box of cigars.” 

“ All right. Bring my half down to-night. I’ll be 
going up again to-morrow, and you see if you can’t 
make it six kicks and two boxes !”—Hotel Gazette. 


THE HOTEL CLERK. 

With a smile that is bland 
And a pen in his hand 
You should see the old clerk 
Give his book a quick jerk, 

And your name you are bound, 
To sign, as it swings round. 



With Gripsack. 


3°9 


Then he sizes you up 
With a “Sir, will you sup? 

Or go first to your room 
And then later consume ?” 

See his di-a-mond flash 
Down upon your ink splash, 
And you do not rejoice 
At the sound of his voice, 

But you tremble with fear 
As this demagogue near, 

Calls aloud with a grunt 
“Will you hurry up ‘ Front* 
Take this man to the roof, 
Where he may be aloof 
From the rest of the world.” 
And his lip it is curled 
As he says, “ Though up high, 
You’ll be nearer the sky, 

Then in case of a fire , 

Time’s saved going higher; 
Oh, a ‘Drummer,’ you say, 
Then bell-boy come this way, 
Let this ‘ gentleman ’ rest 
In the room we call best, 

And as long as he stays 
You do just as he says.” 


John De Witt. 


O'er Rail a?id Cross -Ties 


310 


BRADLEY’S BREAK. 

Everybody knows G. H. Bradley, who travels for 
Oakford & Fanestock. Bradley has a woe. He likewise 
has a new pair of trousers and the story of it all is as 
follows : One of Bradley’s customers—the name is for¬ 
gotten, but Frank Delaney can give name, date and 
place—last fall purchased a barrel of kraut. When 
kraut is at itself it is all right. It is more. It is a posi¬ 
tive dainty. As much so as is a meerschaum pipe or a 
pickled Willie, which latter is often set down on the bills 
of profane and illiterate lunch fiends as a pig’s foot. 
But when kraut spoils it is a holy terror. Like unto its 
odor there is no other odor emanating from any earthly 
source, and its looks are no more reassuring than its 
smell. Such was the kraut of Bradley’s customer. He 
didn’t waste any time in mourning or making a fuss, 
but he simply headed up the barrel and bided his time. 

A few days ago when Bradley called, the grocer pre¬ 
tended to be very busy. He had placed the barrel in 
the aisle under his shelves of canned goods, and when 
Bradley asked him about some fruit, he simply said, “I 
think I’ve got plenty. You might look on those upper 
shelves chough and see, while I write this letter. You 
can stand on that barrel if you can climb up.” 

“Climb up? Why, thunderation, man, I can stand 
flat-footed and jump on that barrel.” 

“I can’t,” said the grocer, “of course, I’ve got the 
rheumatism ; but, just as hard, I’ll bet the cigars that 
you can’t, either.” 

Bradley is free from guile, but he is full of activitv, 
and he took that bet with a smile that was simply 
angelic. Then he winked at the boys, swung his arms 


With Gripsack . 


3 11 

a couple of times, jumped, and landed with both feet 
square in the middle of the head. He didn’t stay there. 
That barrel head was no more substantial than a tissue 
paper balloon, and with a yell of consternation Bradley 
sank to his middle in the decayed kraut. Then arose 
profanity and a smell that made all in reach fly as from 
a cyclone. In the midst of the turmoil the proprietor 
came forward with a clothes-pin on his nose, a rueful 
look on his face and a 5-cent cigar in his hand. 

“Bradley,” he remarked, “ by thunder, you done it. 
You’ve won the cigar fair and square and I’m not the 
fellow to try to squeal out. I’ll tell you what I’ll do, 
though. I’ll make it a quarter’s worth if you’ll go out 
in my woods pasture until the smell blows off. People 
won’t purchase with such perfumery in range.” 

Then Bradley said some more mean things. Then he 
bought some underwear and a pair of trousers, took a 
bath, and sat down to figure. His cigar had cost him 
$12, but he credited himself with that much experience, 
drew a balance, and let it go at that. And Bradley 
didn't sell that kraut in the first place .—Peoria l\an- 
script. 


THE PARTING AT THE GATE. 

When the train is almost going, 

And you hurry least you’re late, 
Have you ever watched a parting, 
Some one parting at the gate ? 

You can scarce suppress your laughter 
Such a feeling some create, 

While at times a tear will glisten 
At some parting at the gate. 



3 12 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


There’s the old maid with her bundles, 
Who will prate, and prate and prate, 
Who will ask the gateman questions, 
While she makes the rest all wait, 

Till you see his brows contracting, 

In his eyes a gleam of hate, 

As he hurries up her parting, 

While she hustles through the gate. 

There’s the mother with the glasses, ' 
Who’ll get left as sure as fate, 

Just arriving with her daughter 
The last minute at the gate, 

And the matron with the children ; 

Let us count them. There are eight ; 
She has little time for parting, 

She must get them through the gate. 

There’s a doctor and a lawyer, 

Coming near in deep debate, 

Who expresses a regret at parting 
In a manner most sedate, 

Then a school boy with his satchel, 

And a school girl with her slate ; 

See them wave a cheerful parting 
To some friends without the gate. 

There’s the gay commercial traveler, 
With a look that seems to state, 

I’m the owner of this railroad ; 

Mileage takes him through the gate, 
While a maiden, dainty fairy, 

Whom he watches through the gate, 
Smiles a very pleasant parting 
Back of mother at the gate. 


With Gripsack . 


3i3 


Then two actors playing heavies 
Come with Henry Irving gait, 

From the way they keep a yawning 
I should say they’d sat up late. 

And they look around in anger 

When they find that they must wait 
On the man who has the tickets 

That will pass them through the gate. 

Then a shy and bashful daughter 
Comes with father bald of pate, 

And looks back a tender parting 
At the lover at the gate, 

While the newly married couple 
Looking most affectionate, 

Clasp their hands and kiss at parting 
As they linger at the gate. 

Then an old decrepit father, 

On whom years have laid their weight 
Totters up, the while a leaning 
On the son so tall and straight, 

And he looks so fondly at him ; 

Will that boy prove an ingrate ? 

And forget that loving father, 

And the parting at the gate ? 

Then a wife who takes a journey, 

How she hates to separate 
From that husband, tender, loving, 

Who has been unfortunate. 

How the heavy circles gather 

'Neath thos*e eyes with fear dilate, 

Ah, she has a tearful parting, 

Calling “ Mizpah ” through the gate. 


314 O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 

And the thought comes sadly to me, 

Thinking of our future state, 

Will we have to part with loved ones 
As we stand without the gate ? 

Not while Jesus is our Saviour, 

Ah, the Master’s love is great, 

Hand in hand we’ll travel with him 
He will pass us through the gate. 

John De Witt. 


- * - 

SALESMEN’S WRITTEN CONTRACTS. 

Here is a question of interest to salesmen and their 
employers : A engages one, two or three salesmen at a 
certain fixed salary, say $2,000 per annum, under a writ¬ 
ten contract, for a specified number of years, say three 
years. At the expiration of the first three or six months, 
A comes to B, C and D, the salesmen, praises them highly 
for their good zeal and ability, congratulates them on 
the success of their labors in general, and because of 
that success volunteers to advance their salary $200, 
$300 or $500 respectively. B, C and D, of course, 
accepted the increase, but no sooner acceded to the 
proposition of such increase than A declares that by 
accepting the increase they have violated, broken and 
nullified the original contract, and therefore discharges 
them. Have B, C and D truly and in law broken the 
contract, as alleged, and have they or have they not any 
redress in law, by reason of their discharge? 

The editor of the Journal of Commerce to whom the 
above was submitted, replies as follows : Aside from the 
question of fraud, which vitiates all agreements and con- 



With Gripsack. 


3i5 


tracts into which it enters, the original contract, in the 
case put by our correspondent, was rescinded, if at all, 
at the request of the employer. The consideration which 
he offered for the rescission was a new verbal contract, 
which was not pending, because not written, and which 
was, therefore, not a good or valid consideration for any 
promise. The original written contract between A and 
his salesmen is still good. 


LOST THE CIGARS. 

“ Is that the second bell ?” queried a drummer, as the 
hotel man across the way sounded his gong. 

“ No, they don’t ring but one bell over there,” replied 
the grocer. 

“Why, you’re mistaken, I—” 

“ Have you any cigars on it ?” 

“ A dozen.” 

“John,” calling to a colored porter, “do they ring two 
bells at the Rhodes House ?” 

“ No, sah; dey don’t, sah ; dey ring de same bell twice!” 


GAVE HIMSELF AWAY. 

“ How did you get that black eye ?” repeated the 
drummer, as he buckled the straps of his satchel. 

“ Well, I tried to be smart.” 

“ How ?” 

“ I was at Seymour, Ind., and in a hurry to get 
my railroad ticket. So was another chap. The 
ticket seller was slow, lazy and impudent. The other 




316 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


man pulled his gun, shoved it into the window, and got 
his ticket ten seconds later. It was a hint for me.” 

“And you accepted it?” 

“I did. I shoved my revolver into the window, and 
gave the ticket man a quarter of a minute to get me a 
pasteboard.” 

“ And he jumped ?” 

“He did—jumped out of his office and broke me in 
two over a baggage truck. He’s got my revolver yet.” 

“ But how did it happen to work in one case and 
fail in another ?” 

“Oh, I couldn’t keep my voice from trembling, and 
then I didn’t have long hair and a buffalo overcoat. 
He got right onto me for a fake.”— Detroit Free Press. 


A BAD EFFORT TO BLUFF. 

A Detroit drummer who was stopping at a hotel in 
an Ohio town, found fault with the coffee, and the 
landlord said to him in the presence of three or four 
other guests : 

“You Michigan people drink so much root coffee 
that you can’t tell the real stuff when you see it.” 

“What do you call it?” asked the drummer. 

“O. G. Java, sir ; and the very best.” 

“ I’ll bet you twenty-five dollars it isn’t.” 

“ Done.” 

“ I am a chemist, and have part of my outfit with 
me. Get me a sample of that coffee, and I’ll tell you 
what it is.” 

He went to his room as a bluff, and in five minutes 



With Gripsack. 317 

the landlord came up and put a five dollar bill in his 
hand and said : 

“ Take this and call the bet off.” 

“ But I want to anal—” 

“ Analyze be hanged. It’s Rio, and second class at 
that; but I don’t want to be given away. I’ve bluffed 
over forty drummers in the last year, and if I hadn’t 
been told you traveled for a grindstone quarry instead 
of a drug-store, I’d never put up the money .”—Detroit 
Free Press. 


NO UPPERS FOR HIM. 

“ Travel never sharpens some people,” said the 
drummer as he threw the stub of his cigar out of the 
window. 

“ In what respect ?” 

“Well, I’ve been on the road for eight years, traveling 
by day and by night, and I’ve never had to take an upper 
berth yet.” 

“ That’s luck.” 

“ No, it isn’t—it’s management. I, of course, buy a 
lower berth when 1 can. When I can’t, I take an upper. 
Price is the same, you know, but there’s a heap of 
difference in the comfort. Then the management 
comes in.” 

“ But how ?” 

“ See this bottle of camphor ? I’ve carried it ever since 
I first started out, but have had it refilled about once 
a month. When I get seated in a car, I am suddenly 
taken faint. I pull out my camphor bottle. You can 



318 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

smell camphor from end to end of a car. It isn’t two 
minutes before some one comes to ask: 

“ ‘ Anything wrong, sir ?* 

“ ‘ I’m feeling very badly.’ 

“ ‘ Can I do anything for you ?* 

“ ‘ No thanks. That is—’ 

“ 1 Don’t be afraid of making me trouble. What is it ?’ 
“ ‘ I have an upper berth, and I am—I’m afraid I can 
never get into it. Been troubled with palpitation for 
the last ten years. Reaching up increases it. I don’t 
want to ask any one to exchange with me, but—’ 

‘“Why certainly ; I’ve a lower, and under the circum¬ 
stances I shall be only too glad to exchange with you.’ 

“That’s all there is to it,’’said the drummer, as he 
opened his grip for a novel ; “ it’s all in the management. 
A proper demeanor—a little camphor—a few words of 
thanks, and I snug away into a lower and sleep the 
sleep of the just. The other man has got all he paid 
for any way, and if he doesn’t sleep well, that’s not my 
lookout.” 


HE WAS RADICALLY CURED. 

He was a commercial traveler, and he was relating an 
experience to some of the boys at the Farwell House, 
Chicago : 

“ About ten years ago, when my eye-teeth were still in 
my gums,” he said, “ I was going from Cleveland to 
Cincinnati. There was plenty of room in the coach, 
but I figured to get alongside a woman—a good looker 
about thirty years of age. I found her talkative and 
pleasant, but after about half an hour, and while I was 
patting myself on the back, she turned on me with : 



With Gripsack, 319 

“ Can you spare me $75 to-day ?” 

1 laughed. 

“And don’t keep me waiting,” she continued. 

I laughed again, although she had a look which gave 
me a hint of trouble. 

“ You either come down with the $75 or I’ll stand up 
here and claim to everybody that you are my husband, 
and that you ran away and I am bringing you back.” 

I didn’t laugh this time. I saw that she meant every 
word of it. I had about $70, and I tried to bluff her. I 
told her to raise a row, and I would have her arrested, 
but she didn’t scare worth a cent. She was springing up 
to denounce me, when I came to time.” 

“ You don’t say you gave her the money ?” 

“ But I do. I counted it right out on her lap, and she 
put it into her pocket, and said she guessed it would be 
a great moral lesson to me to mind my own business in 
future. So it was. I got away from her after a bit, 
dead broke, and mad all through, but I was placed in 
such a position that I couldn’t say a word. No more 
half seats for me. One dose has worked a cure.” 


HE WASN’T CALLED. 

A Commercial Traveler proves to a hotel clerk that 
he was not called in time for a train. 

Sam Harrison, an old hotel clerk at Wheeling, W. Va., 
was bitterly attacked a while ago by a traveling man, 
who came down stairs with blood in his eye. 

“ Why did you not call me this morning ?” he shrieked. 

“I did,” said the cool Samuel, trusting in Providence 
to get out of it somehow. 



320 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

“What time did you have me called ?” 

Mr. Harrison thought a moment, and, knowing the 
early trains left between 6 and 7, said, “I called you at 
5.30 A. M.” 

“ You did not.” 

“I did.” 

“ I know better.” 

“So do I know better.” 

“ Well, I can prove that you didn’t.” 

“ How ?” 

“ ’Cause I never told you to call me at all.'' 

Sometimes the sang froid even of a hotel clerk yields 
to that of the meek-eyed commercial man.— Hotel Mans 
Guide . 


WHEN MERCHANTS SAVE MONEY. 

Salesman—I suppose you will allow me to sell Broke, 
Upp & Co.? 

Principal—I am somewhat afraid of their credit, Mr. 
Valisse. 

Salesman—But you know they failed about a year 
ago, and settled at ten cents. 

Principal—Is that so ? They must have money. Sell 
them all you can.— Jeweler s Circular . 



With Gripsack . 


321 

Lamentations of the traveling man. 

You who envy the traveling man’s life, 

And fondly imagine it free from all strife, 

Just take out some samples for one short trip, 

And if not very pious, an oath you’ll let slip. 

You arrive at the town, in the evening, quite late, 

“ The good rooms are all taken,” such is your fate. 

The supper is cold, and not fit to eat, 

And the beds, well, for hardness they could not be beat. 

You arise in the morning quite unrefreshed, 

You swallow your breakfast, and then go in quest 
Of a merchant who lives at the end of the town, 

And you learn from his house, that he has not yet come 
down. 

Your samples you place by the side of the door, 

And fondly imagine an order in store. 

But after long waiting he comes only to say, 

“There’s nothing I’m needing in your line to-day.” 

You may draw your argument down very fine, 

And expatiate on your “very fine line,” 

But the magic quickly goes out of your lore, 

When you learn a competitor’s just been there before. 

Your customer maybe a man of the kind 

That by talking and talking and talking him blind 

You may get an order although very small, 

It helps to pay expenses and that’s about all. 


+ O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

Perhaps a twenty-mile ride you have had, 

Over roads that were hilly and terribly bad 

But your courage goes up, when he invites you to call, 

And he’ll probably want some goods in the fall. 

You go to the depot the next train to get, 

Tis four hours late, there’s no use to fret. 

You take out a cigar to have a good smoke, 

When you feel in your ribs the station-man’s poke. 

“ No smoking allowed here, don’t you see the sign?” 
And even that comfort there we’re forced to resign. 

Then out on the platform we plod on and plod, 

And envy the man that carries the hod. 

Our employers expect us to sell lots of goods, 

In towns that are lonely and far in the woods. 

We travel on freight trains, we drive in a hurry, 
Expenses foot up and we get in a flurry ; 

Our samples are heavy, the charges are high, 

We have no redress, the money must fly, 

An itemized expense account they always expect 
And if it runs light, they’re sure it’s correct. 

Now if you merchants who sit in the store, 

And consider the traveling man always a bore, 

Would think the situation o’er awhile 

When he enters your door, he would meet with a smile. 

They keep you well posted, and you certainly can 
Bny your goods best of the traveling man. 

Don’t send them away with a frown or a jeer, 

And vour balance will please you at the end of the year 


IVith Gripsack. 


323 


And you who send out the traveling men, 

Encourage them, if only by the scratch of a pen. 

They’ll render good service, will work with their might, 
If they feel that the “ House ” is treating them “ white.” 

- ♦- 

THE MEN WHO MOVE. 

“ The drummer is a man who goes 
Where every breeze of commerce blows, 

Who carries trade to every shore, 

And kicks because there isn’t more ; 

Who hates the drummer-tax like sin, 

Who helps the railroad with his tin, 

Who likes hotels that treat him well, 

And gives the others merry—don’t swear, please. 
Who smiles at all the girls he meets, 

Who never waits for others' treats, 

Who loves his wife and kids at home, 

Wherever he may have to roam, 

Who tells the truth to sell his wares, 

Who has his little griefs and cares 
The same as every other man, 

But who in all holds to his grip. 

And stiffly keeps his upper lip, 

Who, when the time comes for reward 
Is not forgotten by the Lord.” 


Anon. 



3 2 4 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


THE FAITHFUL TRAVELER FINISHES HIS 
ROUND TRIP AND REACHES HOME. 

Some years ago there appeared in your paper a little 
sketch by Mrs. Rayne, entitled, I think, “ He Had Made 
the Round Trip,” telling of the sickness and death of a 
traveling man, with his pitiful appeals and fears of los¬ 
ing time. I wish you would do me the favor to reprint 
this sketch. 

I am a traveling man and this selection has done me 
worlds of good. I have lately lost my copy and would 
be greatly obliged to see it again in print. 

I am yours respectfully, 

Westfield , Mass. Wm. H. Farnsworth. 

The sketch referred to is as follows : 

HIS LAST ORDER. 

“ I have taken my last order ; I am going home,” he 
said as the clock struck the midnight hour. 

The nurse looked at the doctor with a significant 
glance, and whispered: “ His mind wanders.” 

Presently he lifted his feverish head from its pillow. 
“Any letters from the house ?” he inquired. “There 
ought to be letters here.” 

Then he slept and in his sleep he was a boy again-r- 
babbled of fishing streams where the trout played, of 
school hours and romps with his mates. At 12 he 
suddenly awakened. 

“All right,” he called, in a strong voice, “I am 
ready !” 

He thought the porter had called him for an early 
train. The doctor laid a soothing hand on him and he 
slept. In his sleep he murmured : 


With Gripsack . 


325 


“ Show you samples of our goods. I am going off the 
road now. This order closes me out. The house has 
called me in. Going to have my first vacation, but I 
shall lose time—time—time ! n 

He drowsed off and the doctor counted his pulse. 
Suddenly the sick man started up. 

“Give me a letter from home. Ellen always writes 
me here ; dear girl, she never disappointed me yet—and 
the children, they will forget me if my trip is too long. 
I have only a few more towns to sell—I promised to be 
home Christmas—I promised to be home—promised—” 

He slept again, and again awakened with a start. 

“ No word from the house yet ?” 

He was going fast now. The doctor bent over him 
and repeated the precious words of promise : 

“ In my Father’s house are many mansions. If it 
were not so I would have told you.” 

“Yes—yes,” said the dying traveler faintly. “It is a 
clear statement. It is a good house to travel for. It 
is a good house to travel for. It deals fair and square 
with its men.” 

The chill December morning dawned—the end was 
very near. The sick man was approaching the undis¬ 
covered land from whose bourne no traveler returns. 

“ I’ve changed my route,” he murmured faintly. “The 
house is calling me in—write to Ellen and the children 
that I’m-on-my-way-home—it’s in—my sample case— 
without money and without price—a good house—fills 
all its orders as agreed. Call me for the first train—I 
am going to make the round trip and get home for 
Christmas.” 

They laid his head back on the pillow. He had made 
the round trip. He had gone home for Christmas,—* 
Mrs, M. L. Rayne, in Detroit Free Press, 


326 


O’er Rail and Cross -Ties 


THE DRUMMER HARD TO BEAT. 

A little chaff, a merry laugh, 

A word for every comer ; 

There is not a man in all the land 
But who extends a ready hand 

To greet the jolly drummer. 

In business wise, in enterprise 
As thrifty as a plumber ; 

So chivalrous and debonair 
This favored one that ladies fair 

All love the gallant drummer. 

His latest joke will soon provoke 
A roar from every bummer 
That hangs around the village bar 
Reflecting lustre from his star, 

The gay commercial drummer. 

With work and wit he hits the grit 
Fall, winter, spring and summer 
Alert and watchful, day and night— 
The world would go to ruin quite 
But for the busy drummer. 

A skull that’s numb may be at the drum 
But, ah ! it takes a hummer— 

A freak of supernaturnal brood— 

Some being most supremely shrewd 
It takes to beat the drummer. 


With Gripsack . 


327 


A DRUMMER’S WISH. 

I wish I had a line of goods 
That no one ever had, 

And every merchant wanted, 

And wanted awful bad. 

I’d send the trade a little card, 

And tell them “ I’m in town,” 

And if they wanted any stuff. 

They’d better come right down. 

I’d treat them as they treat me now ; 

Oh, I'd make some feel so awful “ dizzy 
And when they come around to call, 

I’d say, “I’m very busy.” 

“I guess you’d better come again,” 

I’d say, to some I know— 

“ If you don’t want these goods of mine, 

You take your traps and go. 

“When am I goingout ? 

Well, what is that to you ? 

My house won’t ship you any goods, 

Your pay is most too slow.” 

Some merchants act the gentlemen, 

To such I’d ne’er refuse, 

A treat to Buck or kindred drinks, 

And thus expel the “ blues.” 

I could wish, and wish, and wish in vain, 

Until I was blind and sore— 

For such a wish could never be, 

So I shall wish no more. 

Traveling Man. 


328 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


A CHRISTMAS TOAST, 
boys, here’s to you : 

Here’s a health to the world this good Christmas day, 
And the people that live in it, too ; 

Here’s a health to the “ boys ” who wore sombre gray, 
And a health to the “boys ” in bright blue. 

A health to the “ boys ” far away, 

On steamboat, rail-car or ship ; 

A health to all “ boys ” on this gay, festal day— 

Yes, a health to the “ boys of the grip 

To those who cried out for protection, 

Or declared free-trade a great risk ; 

To those who voted low tariff, 

For Belva, or cold-water Fisk ; 

To the granger with stale country joke, 

And the rollicking tar on the sea— 

To brake, punch, or throttle men, blackened with smoke 
And labor where e’er it may be. 

Here’s a health to the white-chokered saint ; 

To the cowboy, with pistol at hip ; 

To the lowly, the weary, the faint— 

Double health to the “ boys of the grip 

To the merchant, ensconced in grand palace ; 

To his traveler, in humbler abode ; 

To Pickering, Van Pelt and John Corley, 

Friend Speiden, and the “ boys on the road.” 


B. H A. 


With Gripsack . 


329 


THE RULING PASSION. 

Out in the graveyard, cold and still, 

In the shadows dim and gray, 

Where the willows held the whippoorwill, 
They carried the drummer one day. 

That night as the people hurried home, 
Past the graveyard on a run, 

They saw in the darkness and the gloom, 
The dead come one by one 

Out of the coffins and their graves, 

And silently tramp around, 

In ghostly marching to and fro 
On the consecrated ground. 

With a wondrous fear the people gazed, 
And saw that the drummer led 
The grim mysterious visitants 
Among the silent dead. 

They watched and wondered, till at last, 
In strange amazement lost, 

They saw the drummer try to sell 
The tombstones out at cost. 


330 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


AN INNOCENT DRUMMER. 

He bade his wife a tearful good-by. 

“ My love, my only one ! The time will soon be here 
when I shall be in a position to snap my fingers at fate 
and set up as my own boss. Then we shall have no 
more of these cruel partings.” 

“ And you will be true to me ?” 

“As I always am,” he responded. “ You did not for¬ 
get to put that photo you had especially taken for me in 
my ‘gripsack,’ did you?” 

“Oh, dear, no! Are you sure you will look at it 
sometimes, love ?” 

“You wicked little doubter; you know I should be 
wretched without at least such a precious semblance of 
my pet to look at daily, nightly.” 

D raw the veil of charity over his grief and the 
treachery of one in whom he had unbounded confidence. 
In brief, she, his only love, his pet, his wife, had 
secretly planned to make him “ wretched.” She had 
taken that photograph from his gripsack, and was 
gloating over his misery when he should discover that 
only memory remained to him, for the time being, of 
his darling’s looks. 

“ The dear fellow, how he will scold me for the trick,” 
she thought ; “ but I will send him the photo in the 
very first letter.” Thus appeasing her conscience she 
waited for his first letter. It came from Chicago 0 

“ My heart’s delight,” it began. “ Got here O. K. 
this a. m. 'Have been wrestling with the trade all day, 
and a tough time I’ve had of it. Weary and fagged, I 
ehav retired to my room, shut the gilded atmosphere of 


With Gripsack . 


331 


sin that envelopes this terrible city, and taken from my 
satchel your sweet picture. It is before me as I write. 
I shall kiss it when I have said my evening prayers. It 
will rest under my pillow. It is my one solace until I 
hold you, my sweet wife, in these faithful arms again.” 

Thus far had she read, then she toppled over on the 
floor. 

What comfort she found there it is hard to say ; but 
a great determination rose within the stricken wife, who 
went out on hour later and sought a telegraph office. 

Her husband had been saying his prayers abroad 
that evening, and when he got to his hotel about mid¬ 
night his spiritual emotions received a rude shock by a 
telegram from his “only love.” It was elaborate for a 
despatch ; but under the circumstances one could not 
expect an outraged wife to transmit her feelings by the 
slow mail. The despatch read: 

“ You are no longer the only drummer who is not a 
liar, as you have always claimed. Let the fraternity 
make you their chief in the art. Had you taken the 
pains even to look for the photo you say your prayers 
to, you would have discovered that I had—to tease you 
—removed it. My faith in you is dead, dead !” 

The husband clutched his hair. 

“What the devil did I write to her, anyway?” he 
muttered. 

After a while his face cleared. 

“By Jove ! I must have been piling on taffy. That’s 
what a man gets for trying to make a woman feel good ! 
Poor little dear, what a fume she must be in ! Lucky 
for me she gave her grievance away. What geese women 


332 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

are ! Bless her little noddle, her faith shall be resur¬ 
rected/' Forthwith he telegraphed to a knowing friend : 

“Send me, first mail, photo of my wife. Beg, borrow, 
steal it somehow. Mum’s the word. Will write partic¬ 
ulars.’’ 

About a week later, a drummer, in dignified martyrdom, 
stood face to face with a stern but very wept-out wife. 

She expected to see him meek and humble, but he 
gazed upon her with scorn, and then passed into his room 
in crushing silence. 

She was amazed. With quick impulse she followed, 
thanking heaven he had not locked her out. 

“Well!” she began, with wavering courage, “what 
have you to say for yourself?” 

Coldly, cruelly he looked at her. “I?” he queried. 

“ Yes, you.” 

“Woman, if it were not for the over-mastering love I 
bear you, I should never, never look upon you more !” 

His face was convulsed with tragic suffering that was 
balm to her heart to witness, but she only sneered. 

“ Can you explain the deception you tried to practice 
on me ? ” 

“Can you obliterate the insult put upon your husband 
in that unwomanly despatch ? A woman with so little 
confidence in her husband had better live alone. For 
my part, I am not only disgusted but disenchanted.” 

He turned sorrowfully away and bowed his face in his 
hands. She approached him and laid the letter, which 
had caused her such grief, right under his eyes. 

“ Read that ; knowing you had no picture of mine, 
what was I to think ?” 

“What any intelligent, right-minded wife should have 


With Gripsack . 333 

thought ; you would have said to yourself : 1 He is inca¬ 
pable of deceit; he has my picture anyhow.”’ 

“ But you did not have it.” 

He looked at her with sad, resigned sorrow. 

“ Oh woman ! without an atom of faith !” Then he 
put his hand in his pocket and produced the photograph. 

“Oh! darling! Forgive me! You had my picture! 
The old thing taken before we were engaged ! Why, I 
didn’t know you ever had one of these !” 

The restored confidence made her pretty blue eyes 
swim in tearful joy. She put her arms around him, ask¬ 
ing his pardon, caressing even his coat collar. 

“ My dear,” said he, looking into her face with grave 
but loving reproach, “ let this be a warning. Never doubt 
me again, no matter what appearances may be. I can 
always look you squarely in the eyes and say, I am inno¬ 
cent.” And she believed him. 


HAD BEEN TO PENSACOLA. 

HOW A *DRUMMER TURNED THE LAUGH ON A YELLOW 
FEVER QUARANTINE OFFICER. 

“ It is difficult for a Northerner to appreciate the ter¬ 
ror that a rumor of yellow fever creates among the resi¬ 
dents of the South,” said a commercial traveler recently. 

“The last time I was South,” he continued, “there 
were a few supposed cases of the disease in Pensacola, 
Fla. It was several years ago. In order to protect 
their cities from a visitation of the plague, the cities of 
New Orleans and Mobile established a severe quaran¬ 
tine against people coming from Pensacola. 



334 O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 

“ I was leaving New Orleans with several commercial 
men, among whom was a great, big, jolly, practical 
joker, a typical commercial traveler, who represented a 
Troy shirt and collar manufacturer. He was a man 
well on toward middle life. 

“As the Louisville and Nashville train drew nearer to 
Mobile, and had passed the only available connecting 
point with Pensacola, it was boarded by a quarantine 
officer. 

“ He was a thoroughbred Southerner, a man whom 
you would instinctively call ‘ colonel,’ whether you 
knew he bore the customary Southern title or not. 

“ He went through the cars, questioning each passen¬ 
ger upon where he had come .from,and particularly if 
he had been anywhere near Pensacola. Finally he 
reached the Trojan traveler. 

“ Have you been to Pensacola ?” he said. 

The Trojan hesitated for a moment, and then replied : 
‘Yes, Colonel. I won’t lie about it. I have been to 
Pensacola.’ His companions looked at the man in 
amazement, the Colonel jumped about a foot in the air, 
while the other passengers in the car started precipi¬ 
tately for the doors. 

“ ‘ Do you know there is a quarantine against that 
place ?’ continued the Southerner. 

“ ‘ Yes,’ replied the other. 

“‘Well, you can’t stop off at Mobile.’ 

“ * But I must. I have business there.’ 

“It makes no difference about your business,’ con¬ 
tinued the Colonel, positively. ‘The Mobile Board of 
Health has passed resolutions quarantining against 
Pensacola, and you’ll have to continue on this train.’ 

“ ‘ I won’t do any such thing,’ said the drummer. 
4 I’m going to get off at Mobile. ‘ I’ve got an engage- 


With Gripsack. 335 

ment with Johnnie Strauss, and I wouldn't miss seeing 
him for a good deal. He expects me.’ 

“‘I tell you what it is, my man,’ answered the quar¬ 
antine officer, ‘ there’s a party of gentlemen on the 
railroad platform at Mobile armed witli shot guns that 
will look after you if you do get off.’ 

“ ‘ But, Colonel,’ said the drummer, seeing that the 
joke had gone far enough, ‘ it can’t be as bad as that. 
It’s some little time since I’ve been to Pensacola.' 

“ * How long is it ?’ queried the Colonel, who had 
neglected to ask that all important question. 

“ ‘ Well,' replied the other, ‘ I can’t exactly recollect 
the day and month. Perhaps you can assist me. I was 
in the Union Navy during the war. We had a little 
affair at Pensacola and another one right out in Mobile 
Bay. Do you recollect the date of the Pensacola event ? 
If you do, that was the first, last and only time I was 
ever at Pensacola. It’s about twenty years ago now, I 
think.’ 

“A great shout went up from every one in the car. 
The Colonel laughed as loudly as the rest. 

“ ‘ I’ll tell you what it is, boys,’ he said, * the drinks 
are on me. I want you all to join me at the Battle 
House bar as soon as ever we reach Mobile.’ 

“Then turning to the Trojan he added, ‘I’ll refresh 
your memory a little about those affairs at Pensacola 
and Mobile Bay. I was there myself.’ ”—New York 
Herald. 


3 3 6 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties 


A LITTLE SERMON TO DRUMMERS. 

My opinion is that it takes more sense, and tact and 
brains to be a successful commercial traveler than it 
does to represent the people, or be a State senator, or a 
councilor, or even a congressman. Good character is 
the most essential to success in the career of a salesman. 
I would advise the young man to regard the Sabbath 
day. 

Don’t spend the day loafing and smoking around the 
hotel. Don’t do business or write business letters on 
the Lord’s day. The occupation of a commercial trav¬ 
eler is more exhausting and weary, and above all men, 
he does need a day of rest. Go to church ; it will be a 
good thing for you if the merchant recognizes you the 
next day as the stranger he saw in church. 

Once more, gentlemen, whiskey and business won’t 
mix. Rum will beat man on top of the earth. If you 
want to be a successful salesman, a successful merchant, 
and make a mark in the world, don’t be ashamed to say 
“ no.” And have it known that you are a total abstin¬ 
ence man, and touch not, taste not, handle not strong 
drink. 

Lastly, save your earnings. An old man counseled 
me, when very young, the wisdom which I have demon¬ 
strated, that a man’s success in this world does not con¬ 
sist in what he earns, but what he takes care of and 
saves. If your salary is small, save something of it be 
it ever so little—for old age, for sickness, for a wet day. 
Finally, young men, set your mark high. Enter upon 
its pursuit at once and persevere to the end, that you 
may be a successful business man and make the world 
better for having lived in it.— Young Men's Era. 


With Gripsack . 


337 


NEVER GO BACK ON A TRAVELING MAN. 

Oh, pity, kind gentlefolks, friends of humanity, 
Sympathy’s scarce since the world first began, 

And did you but'know it, you ought to bestow it 
If ever you did, on the traveling man. 

You may call us all “ runners,” “ guerrillas” or “ bum¬ 
mers,” 

And agents or drummers, or what else you can ; 

But you’ll always regret it, and don’t you forget it, 

If ever you go back on the traveling man. 

Right here I make mention, ’tis not my intention 
To shield the wrong doing of some erring pard, 

If he don’t use discretion, some foolish transgression 
Will drop his name off from the firm’s business card. 

No use in dissenting, he’ll quit representing 
The house that he has so disgracefully served ; 

No longer the trade that he formerly made 
Will keep for his coming their orders reserved. 

There is no use disguising the fact, though surprising, 
That of trials and troubles the “ boys” have their load ; 
Our life would be dreary, indeed we’d get weary, 

Did we not have our fun while we’re out on the road. 

There is one thing quite certain, you charge us with 
flirtin’ 

With all the gay lasses we happen to meet, 

When even the preachers adore the dear creatures 

Don’t you think they’d all better be kept off the street ? 


338 


O'er Rail and Cross - Ties 


Ask conductors or train men, livery or dray men, 

Or the two-dollar-a-day men who sell us our hash, 
Just ask them quite plainly, on whom they count mainly 
For the root of all evil, but best known as cash, 

And they all to a man, sir, will give you this answer, 
“We generally try to make all that we can, 

But of all of our patrons, the drummers are fat ones 
And our profits all come from the traveling man.” 

In closing this ditty, we don’t crave your pity, 

We ask your good will, which we hope ne’er to lack, 
Remember us kindly, don’t slander us blindly, 

For in sixty days more we’ll be round on your track, 

To the trade, one and all, big dealers and small, 

And we mean what we say when we make the request, 
If your credit’s “ O. K.” and you’re able to pay, 

Reserve us big orders—that suits us the best. 

Robt. Lovell. 


THE BATTERED OLD GRIP. 

Ah yes, it is faded and ragged and worn ; 

One handle almost, one entirely, gone ; 

The erst shining lock all tarnished and scaled, 

The key long since lost, and every clasp failed ; 

The sides falling inward, in gaunt, hungry way, 

And open mouthed corners, as waiting for prey ; 

But incidents many, all fleet-footed, trip 

Through my mind, at the sight of this battered old grip. 



339 


With Gripsack. 

How often, preparing to start on my route, 

I have taken it down, and dusting it out, 

Spread it wide at my feet, with its back to the floor, 
Wondering meanwhile if ’twould hold all my things as 
before. 

Ah, many’s the friend a man tries, but to find 
His holding far less in his heart than his mind ; 

But here’s a companion ne’er gave me the slip— 

Always faithful and willing—my battered old grip. 

First a half a dozen shirts seem to fill up each side, 

Yet ’kerchiefs a dozen, scarfs tied and untied, 

Collars, cuffs,underwear, pipe, tobacco and gloves—■ 

A score of small knick-knacks fit into the grooves; 

A clothes brush, pomade—a picture or two 
Of a dear Hampshire lass, to look at when blue, 

And perhaps a small phial containing a “ nip,” 

All snugly packed into the battered old “grip.” 

The great ocean steamers with cabin and hold, 

Hang the sign out at last “ No more here enrolled 
The street car capacity something immense 
Refuses at last a place for your pence ; 

E’en the venerable stage, despite legend and lore, 

Has been known to decline the “room for one more,” 

But surely a lie must mantle the lip 

On him who would say, “ No more room in this grip !” 

And down as I gaze, sweet memories drift 
Through the channels of thought, and its worn form I 
lift 

With a reverent touch, and think, with a sigh, 

Of the ten thousand dear things in the long since gone by 


340 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


That have lain in its pockets, and hid in its depths— 

A mother’s kind letters, teaching good, true precepts ; 
And others, with tokens from maiden’s pure lip, 

Read over and over, held place in the “ grip.” 

To-day I am thirty-and-four, yet I feel 

All those feelings of youth and love o’er me steal 

As I gaze at its dingy old covers and think 

In my first manhood days, how I stood on the brink 

Of life’s speeding river and dreamed of and plann’d 

A home just the neatest and best in the land, 

Where a sweet face would greet me returned from each 
trip 

With a welcome and smile for myself and the “grip.” 

God bless every stitch in the shrunken old hide, 

That has floated me over life’s changing tide 
To this island of peace, which I now so enjoy 
With my dear loving wife, my girl and my boy ; 

God bless it I say, in palace or cot, 

In wealth or in poverty, whate’er my lot, 

Though stern fate should from me all other gifts strip, 
I’ll cling to you ever, dear battered old “ grip.” 

Charles Eugene Banks. 


Mr. Moody, the noted evangelist, was a commercial 
traveler, and here is an example of a traveling man who 
has used aright the abilities God has given him, and the 
following of his career will show the manifold blessing 
he has received. 



With Gripsack. 


34 i 


SOME STRAY READABLE BITS PICKED UP BY 

THE WAY. 

“ It is a bard life, that of the drummer," said one to 
whom thirty years’ hard work had given the right 
to speak with authority. “It’s a hard life, but it’s an 
interesting one, and it gives a man a close hold on hard 
facts and realities. The drummer learns in a hard school, 
but he does learn, and the lessons*pay. What is the 
first to learn ? How to manage men, how to approach a 
reluctant, or an indifferent, or a suspicious buyer, so as 
to win his confidence and overcome his indisposition. 

“ Experience teaches this better than anything else, 
though some men learn it more easily than others. I 
remember when I began to travel as salesman—on my 
very first trip, I think it was, when I was hardly more 
than a lad—I had experience that proved very valuable 
to me. There was one old fellow on my route who had 
been known for years as the terror of all traveling men. 
He was declared to be absolutely the worst-natured, 
worse-mannered fellow they had ever met anywhere, but 
I hadn’t even heard of him then, and so I entered his store 
very confidently and handed him my card. He took it 
without even glancing at it, tore it into bits and threw 
the pieces on the floor. “ Now, sir,’’ he said, turning to 
me, “ get out of my store." There were two pretty 
young girls in the store who did not understand the 
proceeding, and who looked at me as I walked out as if 
I were an escaped convict. 

“ Well, I smarted for several days over that affair, dur¬ 
ing which time I made up my mind that I’d even mat¬ 
ters up with him if I could next time. So before I 
started out I had a card made expressly for my good 


342 


O'er Rail and Cross -Ties 


friend. It looked exactly like the one I had used before, 
only it was made of tin. When I reached his town I 
waited until I saw the store pretty well filled with peo¬ 
ple, and then I walked in, saluted the proprietor, and 
gave him my card. He took it, just as before, glared at 
me, and gave the card a twist. But it didn’t fall on the 
floor in bits this time, and he only succeeded in giving 
his wrist a wrench and raising a titter among his cus¬ 
tomers. 

“ I was nearly out of the door by this time, for I 
really didn’t think my life was safe, but he called after 
me and I went back. ‘ Come into my office,’ he said. I 
went in expecting never to come out. 

“ 1 What do you want to sell me ?’ he asked. 

“ ‘ Dress goods,’ I said. 

“ ‘ Well, go on.' And I actually sold the old curmud¬ 
geon $1,000 worth of cloths before I left. For years 
after—as long as he lived, in fact—he was one of my 
best customers and one of the best friends I ever made 
in my business .”—Traveling Mans Guide. 


As the resources of our own country began to develop, 
the commercial traveler gained a foothold, and it is 
estimated that they number to-day in the United States 
over $250,000, spending $1,750,000 each day, and ship¬ 
ping yearly by the railroads 3,000,000,000 out of the 
400,000,000 tons of freight shipped. 



With Gripsack . 


343 


MAKING THE BEST USE OF DIFFICULTIES. 

A train had broken down, by reason of the displace¬ 
ment of some of its machinery. 

In the crowd that disembarked, were a party of jolly 
drummers, and they were the first to find out from 
the conductor that the mishap was serious enough to 
detain the train for three or four hours. 

“ I will have the whistle blown in time for you all to 
get back,” said the conductor, in answer to a suggestion 
from one of the drummers, that they explore the rural 
surroundings, the train having stopped many miles from 
any station. 

The party then set out, and after rambling through a 
piece of woods for a short time, they came to a bold spring 
of clear cool water, that gushed out from a fissure in a 
rock on the hillside, and laughed its lengthened view, 
out of sight down the dale. Around the spring grew a 
bed of the never-to-be-forgotten mint, luxuriating in all 
its natural and vernal sweetness. 

“ What a place for a mint julep,” said a drummer for 
a grocery house, who was one of the four present. “ I 
have the whiskey and sugar, but nothing to mix them 
in.” 

“ I can furnish the tumblers from my samples,” said a 
china and glassware representative, “but nothing else.” 

“ I can get spoons from my samples, but where’s the 
ice to come from ?” said a hardwareman. 

“I can get that for you,” said the fourth man, and 
forthwith the various ingredients were brought from 
the train and julep after julep was enjoyed, until three 
or four rounds had been taken and all voted excellent. 


344 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties • 


Then it was proposed to have another, when the ice 
man spoke. 

“ I would like to enjoy myself, boys, but I don’t think 
I can spare any more ice ; I’m afraid if I do, my old 
man will spoil.” 


-+- 

THE DRUMMER’S BABE. 

“ Big time to-night,” the drummers said, 

As to supper they sat down ; 

“To-morrow’s Sunday, and now’s our chance 
To illuminate the .town.” 

“ Good,” cries Bill Barnes, the jolliest— 

The favorite of all; 

“Yes ; let’s forget our trouble now 
And hold high carnival.” 

The supper done, the mail arrives ; 

Each man his letters scanning, 

With fresh quotations—up or down— 

His busy brain is cramming. 

But Bill—why, what’s come over him— 

Why turned so quick about, 

He says, just as his pards start forth , 

“I guess I won’t go out.” 

His letter bore no written word, 

No prayer from vice to flee, 

Only the tracing of a hand— 

A baby hand—of three. 



With Gripsack. 


345 


What picture comes before his mind— 
What does his memory paint ? 

A baby at her mother’s knee— 

His little white robed saint. 

What cares a man for ridicule 
Who wins a victory grand ? 

Bill slept in peace, his brow was smoothed 
By a shadowy little hand. 

Naught like the weak things of this world 
The power of sin withstands ; 

No shield between man’s soul and wrong 
Like a little baby hand. 


THE LAST OF ALL. 

The following is vouched for as an absolute occurrence. 
A drummer who had been in the habit of stopping at a 
well known hotel in Texas, reached the house one day, 
and the first man he saw was an old acquaintance in the 
shape of old Moses, the colored factotum. Moses was 
shambling along talking to himself, when the drummer 
accosted him with : 

“ Hello ! Mose, what are you growling about, man ?” 

“Well, I da-clar ! How you do, sail. Ein see you fur 
sum time. How you do, sah ?” 

“First rate, but you haven’t told me what you were 
grumbling about.’’ 

“Well, sah, I tell you,” said Mose, scratching his head. 



346 


O'er Rail and Cross-Ties. 


“You see it’s diss away. Dere dat drummer’s bin stop¬ 
ping here for er fortnit. I wait on him dess like he was 
a gentleman, black his shoes, brush him off, fetch him 
de vear best in de kitchen, but it ’tain’t work no respec. 
He ain gin me nuthin.” 

“ Well, why don’t you kick ? I’d blow him up if I were 
you.” 

“ Lord, boss, ’tain’t no use, you cane work no hoodoo 
on dat man. I done spit in his coffee every mornin’ un I 
cane conger him ‘ wuff a cint.’ ” 


THE END. 


MRS. MARY J. HOLMES’ NOYELS. 


Over a MILLION Sold. 


As a writer of domestic stories, which are extremely interesting without being 
extravagant, Mrs. Mary J. Holmes is unrivalled. Her characters arc true to life, 
quaint, and admirably delineated. 


Tempest and Sunshine. 
English Orphans. 
Homestead on the Hillside, 
’Lena Rivers. 

Meadow Brook. 

Dora Deane. 

Cousin Maude. 

Marian Grey. 

Edith Lyle. 


Daisy Thornton. 
Chateau D’Or. 
ueenie Hetherton. 
arkness and Daylight. 
Hugh Worthington. 
Cameron Pride. 

Rose Mather. 

Ethelyn's Mistake. 
Millbank. 

Price $1.50 perYol. 


Edna Browning. 

WestLawn. 

Mildred. 

Forrest House. 
Madeline. 
Christmas Stories. 
Bessie’s Fortune. 
Gretchen. 
Marguerite (New). 


AUGUSTA J. EVANS’ 

Magnificent Novels. 

Beulah, $1.75 Inez, $1.75 Yashti, $200 

St. Elmo, $2.00 Macaria, $1.75 Infeliee. $2.00 

At the Mercy of Tiberius, New. $2.00. 


“ The author’s style is beautiful, chaste, and elegant. Her ideas are clothed In the 
most fascinating imagery, and her power of delineating character is truly remarkable.” 



SPLENDID NOVELS. 


Alone. 

Hidden Path. 
Moss Side. 
Nemesis. 


Miriam. 

Sunny Bank. 
Ruby’s Husband. 
At Last. 


My Little Love. 
Phemie’s 'temptation. 
The Empty Heart. 
From My Youth Up. 


Helen Gardner. 
Husbands and Homes. 
Jessamine. 

True as Steel. 


Price $1.50 per Vol. 

“ Marion Harland understands the art of constructing a plot which will gain the atten¬ 
tion of the reader at the beginning, and keep up the interest unbroken to the last 
page.”— Phila. Telegram. 

‘‘Her novels are of surpassing excellence and interest .”—Home Jouimal. 


MAY AGNES FLEMING’S 


POPULAR NOVELS, 


Silent and True. 

A Wonderful Woman. 
A Terrible Secret. 
Norine’s Revenge. 

A Mad Marriage. 

One Night’s Mystery. 


Kate Danton. 

Guy Earlscourt’s Wife. 
Heir of Charlton. 
Carried by Storm. 

Lost for a Woman. 

A Wife’s Tragedy. 


A Changed Heart. 

Pride and Passion. 
Sharing Her Crime. 

A Wronged Wife. 
Maude Percy’s Secret. 
The Actress’ Daughter. 


The Queen of the l6le. The Midnight Queen (New). 

Price $1.50 per Vol. 

“ Mrs. Fleming’s stories are growing more and more popular every day. Their 
delineations of character, life-like conversations, flashes of wit, constantly varying 
scenes, and deeply interesting plot*, combine to place their author in the very flrst rank 
of Modern Novelists.” 

All handsomely printed and bound in cloth, sold everywhere, and by mail, postage 
free, on receipt of price by 

.-v. G. W. DILLINGHAM, PUBLISHER, 

Hm* 33 West 23rd Street, Mew York, 








Mrs. Mary J. Holmes’ Works. 


TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE. 
ENGLISH ORPHANS. 
HOMESTEAD ON HILLSIDE. 
’LENA RIVERS. 

MEADOW BROOK. 

DORA DEANE. 

COUSIN MAUDE. 

MARIAN GREY. 

EDITH LYLE. 

DAISY THORNTON. 
CHATEAU D’OR. 

QUEENIE HETHERTON. 
BESSIE’S FORTUNE. 
MARGUERITE. ( New .) 


DARKNESS AND DAYLIGHT. 
HUGH WORTHINGTON. 
CAMERON PRIDE. 

ROSE MATHER. 

ETIIELYN’S MISTAKE. 
MILLBANK. 

EDNA BROWNING. 

WEST LAWN. 

MILDRED. 

FOREST HOUSE. 

MADELINE. 

CHRISTMAS STORIES. 
GRETCHEN. 


OPINIONS OF THE PRESS, 


“ Mrs. Holmes’ stories are universally read. Her admirers are numberless. 
She is in many respects without a rival in the world of fiction. Her characters 
are always life-like, and she makes them talk and act like human beings, subject 
to the same emotions, swayed by the same passions, and actuated by the same 
: motives which are common among men and women of every-day ex’ stence. Mrs. 
Holmes is very happy in portraying domestic life. Old and young peruse her 
stories with great delight, for she writes in a style that all can comprehend.” 
—New York Weekly. 

Tine North American Review, vol. 81, page 557, says of Mrs. Mary 
J. Holmes’novel “English Orphans”:—“With this novel of Mrs. Holmes’ we 
have been charmed, and so have a pretty numerous circle of discriminating readers 
to whom we have lent it. The characterization is exquisite, especially so far as 
concerns rural and village life, of which there are some pictures that deserve to 
be hung up in perpetual memory of types of humanity fast becoming extinct. 
The dialogues are generally brief, pointed, and appropriate. The plot seems 
simple, so easily and naturally is it developed and consummated. Moreover, the 
story thus gracefully constructed and written, inculcates without obtruding, not 
only pure Christian morality in general, but, with especial point and power, the 
dependence of true success on character, and of true respectability on merit.” 

“Mrs. Holmes’ stories are all of a domestic character, and their interest, 
therefore, is not so intense as if they were more highly seasoned with sensation¬ 
alism, but it is of a healthy and abiding character. The interest in her tales 
begins at once, and is maintained to the close. Her sentiments are so sound, her 
sympathies so warm and ready, and her knowledge of manners, character, and 
the varied incidents of ordinary life is so thorough, that she would find it diffi¬ 
cult to write any other than an excellent tale if she were to try it ."—Boston 
Banner. _ 

The volumes are all handsomely printed and bound in cloth, sold every¬ 
where, and sent by mail, postagefree, on receipt of price [$1.50 each]. 


G. W. DILLINGHAM, Publisher, 



Successor to O. W. CARLETON & CO., 

33 W. 23d St., NEW YORK 























MAY AGNES FLEMING’S 


Popular Novels. 



The following is a list of the Novels by the Author 
“Guy Earlscourt’s Wife.” 


SILENT AND TRUE. 

A WONDERFUL WOMAN. 

A TERRIBLE SECRET. 
NORINE’S REVENGE. 

A MAD MARRIAGE. 

ONE NIGHT S MYSTERY. 
KATE DANTON. 

GUY EARLSCOURT’S WIFE. 
HEIR OF CHARLTON. 

THE QUEEN OF 


CARRIED BY STORM. 

LOST FOR A WOMAN. 

A WIFE’S TRAGEDY. 

A CHANGED HEART. 

PRIDE AND PASSION. 
SHARING HER CRIME- 
A WRONGED WIFE. 

MAUDE PERCY’S SECRET 
THE ACTRESS’ DAUGHTER, 
THE ISLE (New). 


These vols. can be had at any bookstore in the cloth, 
bound library edition. Price $1.50. 


“ Mrs. Fleming’s stones are growing more and more popular every day. Their 
delineations of character, life-like conversations, flashes of wit, constantly 
varying scenes, and deeply interesting plots, combine to place 
their author in the vary first rank of Modern Novelists.” 


All handsomely printed and bound in doth, sold everywhere, and 
by mail, postage free, on receipt of price ($1.60 each), by 


rg. G. W. DILLINGHAM, PUBLISHER, 

33 West 23rd Street, New York. 




MARION HARLAHD’S 


SPLENDID NOVELL 


The following is a list of the Novels by the Author of 

“ Alone.” 


Alone. 

Hidden Path. 
Moss Side. 
Nemesis. 

Miriam. 

Sunny Bank. 
Buby’s Husband. 
At Last. 


My Little Love. 
Phemie’s Temptation. 
The Empty Heart. 
Prom My Youth Up. 
Helen Gardner. 
Husbands and Homes. 
Jessamine. 

True as Steel. 


These vols. can be had at any bookstore in the cloth- 
bound library edition. Price, $1.50. 


“It is a strong proof of Marion narland’s ability, that she has been able, for 
each a length of time, to retain her hold upon the public. The secret of her success 
is that her books are truly excellent.”— Phila. Times. 

“Marion Harland understands the art of constructing a plot which will gain 
the attention of the reader at the beginning, and keep up the interest unbroken to 
the last page.”— Phila. Telegram. 

“ Marion Harland is very popular because she is natural and chaste. She is 
welcome to the home circle because she is imbued with the holiest principles. She 
arranges her plots with great skill, and developes them with language commenda¬ 
ble for purity and earnestness of expression .”—Lockport Union. 

“As a writer oi fiction, Marion Ilnrland has attained a wide and well-earned 
reputation. Her novels are of surpassing excellence and interest.”— Home Journal. 

-- 

All handsomely printed and bound in cloth, sold everywhere, 
and sent by mail, postage free, on receipt of price ($1.50), by 

•& e - W. Dillingham, Publisher, 

83 West 23rd Street, New York. 































































































































































